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CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PICCADILLY. 

•4 

Traditions  of  Hyde  Park  Corner  —  Sir  Thomas  Wyatt  — 

Charles  the  Second  and  the  Duke  of  York  —  Sir  Samuel 

3»-  Morland  —  Winstanley  —  Pope  —  Lord  Lanesborough  — 

^j  Apsley  House  —  The  "  Pillars  of  Hercules  "  —  Origin  of 

the  Name  Piccadilly  —  Eminent  Persons  Who  Lived  in 

the  Neighbourhood 21 

CHAPTER   II. 

Si 

O 

THE  GREEN   PARK  AND   HYDE   PARK. 

•as, 

^  The  Green  Park  —  Duel  between  the  Earl  of  Bath  and  Lord 
Hervey  —  Hyde  Park  in  the  Reigns  of  Henry  the  Eighth, 
Queen  Elizabeth,  Queen  Anne,  Cromwell,  and  Charles  the 
Second  —  Famous  Duel  between  Lord  Mohun  and  the 
Duke  of  Hamilton  —  M'Lean  and  Belchier  the  Highway- 
men—  Mysterious  Incident  to  the  Duke  of  Marlborough  47 

£  CHAPTER   III. 


Mayfair  —  Mayfair  Chapel  —  Singular  Marriages  —  Curzon 
Street  —  South  Audley  Street  —  Grosvenor  Square  — 
Portman  Square  —  Cavendish  Square  —  Hanover  Square 
—  Bond  Street — Berkeley  Square 77 


16  CONTENTS. 

PACT 

CHAPTER    IV. 
ST.  JAMES'S  STREET. 

St  James's  Street  —  Clubs  —  Colonel  Blood  — Cocoa  Tree 
Tavern  —  Thatched  House  —  Death  of  Gibbon — Byron  108 

CHAPTER  V. 

THE  NEIGHBOURHOOD  OF   ST.  JAMES'S   STREET. 

Bennet  Street  —  Arlington  Street  —  Park  Place  —  St 
James's  Place  —  Cleveland  Row  —  King  Street  —  Al- 
mack's  —  Little  Ryder  Street  —  Bury  Street  .  .  .125 

CHAPTER  VI. 
ST.  JAMES'S  SQUARE. 

St.  James's  Square  —  Duke  of  Hamilton  —  Frederick,  Prince 
of  Wales  —  Johnson  and  Savage  —  Jermyn  Street  —  Lord 
St.  Albans  —  Sir  Walter  Scott 133 

CHAPTER  VII. 

PALL  MALL. 

Former  State  of  Pall  Mall  —  Sir  Thomas  Wyatt  —  Murder 
of  Thynne  —  Charles  the  Second's  Mistresses  —  Beau 
Fielding's  Strange  Adventure  —  Schomberg  House  — 
Star  and  Garter — Duke  of  Buckingham's  Residence  — 
Carlton  House 146 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
ST.  JAMES'S  PALACE. 

Site  of  St.  James's  Palace  —  Erected  by  Henry  the  Eighth 
—  The  Residence  of  Queen  Mary,  Henry,  Prince  of 
Wales,  Charles  the  First,  Mary  de  Medicis,  Charles 
the  Second,  James  the  Second,  William  the  Third, 
George  the  First,  George  the  Second,  and  Daughter  .  1 74 


CONTENTS.  17 

PAGB 

CHAPTER  IX. 
ST.  JAMES'S  PARK. 

Original  Enclosure — Charles  Going  to  Execution  —  Crom- 
well —  Skating  —  Game  of  Pall-mall  —  Charles  the  Sec- 
ond —  Queen  Anne  —  Marlborough  House  —  The  Mall 

—  Spring  Gardens  —  Buckingham  House        .        .        .  206 

CHAPTER   X. 
KING  STREET,   WESTMINSTER,  —  ST.   MARGARET'S   CHURCH. 

Westminster,  King  Street  —  Residence  of  Spenser,  Carew, 
Lord  Dorset,  Cromwell  —  Great  Plague  —  Mrs.  Oldfield 

—  Downing  Street  —  Gardiner's  Lane  —  Cannon  Row  — 

St.  Margaret's  Church  —  The  Sanctuary          .        .        .  244 

CHAPTER   XI. 

WESTMINSTER. 

The  Sanctuary  —  Persons  Who  Took  Refuge  There  —  The 
Gatehouse  —  Its  History  —  Tothill  Street  —  The  Streets 
of  Old  Westminster  —  Westminster  School  —  Remark- 
able Persons  Educated  There 275 

CHAPTER   XII. 

OLD  PALACE  OF  WESTMINSTER. 

Its  Early  Regal  Builders  and  Tenants  —  Edward  the  Sec- 
ond and  Gaveston  —  Death  Scene  of  Henry  the  Fourth 

—  Henry  the  Eighth  the  Last  Resident  —  Court  of  Re- 
quests —  Painted    Chamber  —  Gunpowder    Plot  —  St. 
Stephen's  Chapel  —  Old  and  New  Palace  Yard        .        .  298 

CHAPTER   XIII. 

WESTMINSTER   HALL. 

Its  Erector  —  The  Hall  for  the  Coronation  and  Banquet- 
ings  of  the  English  Kings  —  Extraordinary  Scenes  and 


1 8  CONTENTS. 

PAGB 

Remarkable   Trials   Which  Have  Occurred  There  from 
the  Time  of  William  Rufus  Till  the  Present  Day        .  359 

CHAPTER   XIV. 

WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 

Early  Places  of  Worship  on  Its  Site  —  Erection  of  the 
Present  Edifice —  Scenes  and  Ceremonies  in  It  —  Poets' 
Corner — Chapels  of  St.  Edmund,  St.  Nicholas,  St.  Paul, 
Edward  the  Confessor,  Islip,  Henry  the  Seventh  —  Clois- 
ters —  Jerusalem  Chamber  —  Chapter  House  .  .  .  441 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

THE  GREAT  FIRE Frontispiece 

MONTAGUE  HOUSE 88 

LAURENCE  STERNE         100 

CARLTON  HOUSE 171 

MRS.  OLDFIELD 256 

VIEW  INSIDE  WESTMINSTER  HALL       .        .        .  360 

WESTMINSTER  ABBEY 444 


Memorials  of  London. 


MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 


CHAPTER   fc; 

PICCADILLY. 


Traditions  of  Hyde  Park  Corner  —  Sir  Thomas  Wyatt  —  Charles 
the  Second  and  the  Duke  of  York  —  Sir  Samuel  Morland  — 
Winstanley  —  Pope  —  Lord  Lanesborough  —  Apsley  House 

—  The  "  Pillars  of  Hercules  "  —  Origin  of  the  Name  Piccadilly 

—  Eminent  Persons  Who  Lived  in  the  Neighbourhood. 

HYDE  PARK  CORNER,  as  the  great  western 
approach  to  London,  seems  to  be  the  most 
appropriate  place  for  commencing  our  antiquarian 
rambles.  The  spot,  too,  in  itself,  possesses  great 
interest.  It  was  here  that  Sir  Thomas  Wyatt 
"planted  his  ordnance"  in  his  famous  attempt 
on  London  in  1554;  and  here  also,  on  the  threat- 
ened approach  of  the  royal  army  in  1642,  the 
citizens  of  London  hastily  threw  up  a  large  fort, 
strengthened  with  four  bastions ;  in  which  zealous 
work  of  rebellion  they  were  enthusiastically  aided 
by  their  wives  and  daughters.  Butler  tells  us,  in 
his  inimitable  "  Hudibras  :  " 


22  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

"  From  ladies  down  to  oyster-wenches, 
Laboured  like  pioneers  in  trenches ; 
Fell  to  their  pickaxes  and  tools, 
And  helped  the  men  to  dig  like  moles." 

I  have  seldom  crossed  the  road  between  Consti- 
tution Hill  and  Hyde  Park,  without  calling  to 
mind  the  well-known  retort  which  Charles  the 
Second  /gave  his,'  brother:,  the  Duke  of  York,  on 
this  particular  spot!  Charles,  who  was  as  fond 
of  /jX^lltuig'' -as;  h'i4  brother  was  of  riding,  after 
taking  two  or  three  turns,  and  amusing  himself 
with  feeding  the  birds  in  St.  James's  Park,  pro- 
ceeded* up  Constitution  Hill,  accompanied  by  the 
Duke  of  Leeds  and  Lord  Cromarty,  into  Hyde 
Park.  He  was  in  the  act  of  crossing  the  road, 
when  he  was  met  by  the  Duke  of  York,  who  had 
been  hunting  on  Hounslow  Heath,  and  who  was 
returning  in  his  coach,  attended  by  an  escort 
of  the  royal  horse  guards.  The  duke  immedi- 
ately alighted,  and  after  paying  his  respects  to  the 
king,  expressed  his  uneasiness  at  seeing  him  with 
so  small  an  attendance,  and  his  fears  that  his 
life  might  be  in  danger  from  the  hands  of  an 
assassin.  "  No  kind  of  danger,"  said  the  merry 
monarch,  "  for  I  am  sure  that  no  man  in  England 
will  take  away  my  life  to  make  you  king."  x 

Close  to    Hyde    Park  Corner,  the  well-known 

1  Doctor  King  tells  us  that  Lord  Cromarty  was  in  the  constant 
habit  of  relating  the  story  to  his  friends. 


PICCADILLY.  23 

mechanist,  Sir  Samuel  Morland,  had  a  country 
house.  A  letter  of  his,  addressed  to  the  high- 
minded  and  ingenious  philosopher,  John  Evelyn, 
is  dated  from  his  "hut  near  Hyde  Park  Gate."  It 
was  to  the  town  house  of  Sir  Samuel,  at  Lambeth, 
that  Charles  the  Second  passed  from  the  palace  of 
Whitehall  by  water,  to  pass  the  first  night  of  his 
almost  miraculous  Restoration  with  Mrs.  Palmer, 
afterward  the  too  celebrated  Duchess  of  Cleve- 
land. Winstanley,  another  ingenious  mechanist, 
who  lived  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Anne,  had  also  a 
"  water  theatre "  near  Hyde  Park  Corner,  con- 
spicuous from  its  being  surmounted  by  a  large 
weathercock  ;  and  here,  we  are  told,  the  town  was 
accustomed  to  crowd  of  an  evening  to  witness  his 
hydraulic  experiments.  Steele  mentions  him  in 
one  of  his  papers  in  the  Tatler,  and  Evelyn  has 
thought  the  projector  worthy  of  praise. 

One  would  be  glad,  but  the  wish  is  a  vain  one, 
to  ascertain  the  exact  spot,  "by  Hyde  Park 
Corner,"  which  was  the  scene  of  the  schoolboy 
days  of  Pope,  —  where  the  poet  forgot  the  "  little  " 
which  he  had  learnt  from  his  Roman  Catholic  pre- 
ceptor, Bannister ;  from  whence  he  used  to  stroll 
to  the  playhouse,  to  delight  himself  with  theat- 
rical exhibitions ;  and  where  the  youthful  bard 
composed  his  juvenile  play  from  "  Ogildby's  Iliad," 
in  which  his  schoolfellows  were  the  principal 
performers,  and  his  master's  gardener  was  the 
personator  of  Ajax. 


24  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

Since  we  are  unable  to  point  out  the  exact  spot 
where  the  great  poet  "lisped  in  numbers,"  it  is 
but  small  consolation  to  be  able  to  fix  the  resi- 
dence of  one  whose  follies  have  been  immortalised 
by  his  verse.  This  was  Theophilus,  first  Lord 
Lanesborough : 

"  Sober  Lanesborough  dancing  with  the  gout" 

His  country  residence  was  on  the  site  of  the 
present  St.  George's  Hospital,  and  originally 
formed  the  centre  of  the  old  hospital,  to  which 
two  wings  were  afterward  added  on  its  being 
adapted  to  charitable  purposes.  So  paramount  is 
said  to  have  been  Lord  Lanesborough' s  passion 
for  dancing,  that,  when  Queen  Anne  lost  her  con- 
sort, Prince  George  of  Denmark,  he  seriously 
advised  her  to  dispel  her  grief  by  applying  herself 
to  his  favourite  exercise.  He  died  here  on  the 
nth  of  March,  1723. 

Apsley  House,  which  stands  on  the  site  of  the 
old  Ranger's  Lodge,  was  built  by  Lord  Chancellor 
Apsley,  afterward  second  Earl  of  Bathurst,  about 
the  year  1770.  Almost  adjoining,  and  to  the  east 
of  Apsley  House,  formerly  stood  a  noted  inn,  the 
"  Pillars  of  Hercules,"  which  will  always  be 
memorable  as  the  place  where  Squire  Western 
took  up  his  abode,  when  he  came  to  London  in 
search  of  Sophia,  and  was  bursting  with  ven- 
geance against  Tom  Jones.  About  the  middle 
of  the  last  century,  the  "  Pillars  of  Hercules " 


PICCADILLY.  25 

was  a  fashionable  dining  place,  especially  for  mili- 
tary men.  It  was  also  much  frequented  by 
country  gentlemen  from  the  West  of  England, 
which  was  probably  the  reason  that  Fielding  made 
Squire  Western  take  up  his  quarters  there. 

The  space  between  the  "Pillars  of  Hercules" 
and  Hamilton  Place  was  formerly  occupied  by  a 
row  of  mean  houses,  one  of  which  was  a  public- 
house  called  the  "Triumphant  Chariot."  This 
was,  in  all  probability,  the  "petty  tavern"  to 
which  the  unfortunate  Richard  Savage  was  con- 
ducted by  Sir  Richard  Steele,  on  the  well-known 
occasion  of  their  being  closeted  together  for  a 
whole  day  composing  a  hurried  pamphlet,  which 
they  were  compelled  to  sell  for  two  guineas  before 
they  could  pay  for  their  dinner.  Piccadilly  Ter- 
race now  stands  on  the  site  of  the  row  of  houses 
we  have  referred  to.  At  No.  13,  Lord  Byron 
resided  shortly  after  his  marriage :  here  occurred 
his  memorable  separation  from  Lady  Byron  ;  and 
here  he  seems  to  have  composed  "  Parisina,"  and 
"The  Siege  of  Corinth." 

According  to  the  authority  of  almost  every  per- 
son who  has  written  on  the  subject  of  the  streets 
of  London,  —  and  I  am  sorry  to  disturb  an  opin- 
ion so  long  received,  —  Piccadilly  derives  its  name 
from  Peccadilla  Hall,  a  repository  for  the  sale  of 
the  fashionable  ruffs  for  the  neck,  entitled  picca- 
dillies  or  turnovers,  which  were  introduced  in  the 
reign  of  James  the  First.  Barnabe  Rice,  in  his 


26  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

"  Honestie  of  the  Age,"  speaks  of  the  "  body- 
makers  that  do  swarm  through  all  parts,  both  of 
London  and  about  London."  "The  body,"  he 
says,  "  is  still  pampered  up  in  the  very  dropsy  of 
excess.  He  that  some  forty  years  since  should  have 
asked  after  Piccadilly,  I  wonder  who  would  have 
understood  him ;  or  who  could  have  told  what  a 
Piccadilly  had  been,  either  fish  or  flesh."  In  Ben 
Jonson's  "  Devil  is  an  Ass  ; "  in  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher's  "  Pilgrim  ; "  and  in  Drayton's  satirical 
poem,  "  The  Moon  Calf,"  will  be  found  more  than 
"  one  allusion  to  the  fashionable  '  pickadel,'  or 
pickadilly."  It  must  be  remarked,  however,  that 
the  earliest  of  these  productions  (and  they  have 
all  evidently  reference  to  a  ridiculous  and  ephem- 
eral fashion  of  recent  introduction)  dates  no 
further  back  than  1616;  and,  moreover,  accord- 
ing to  every  evidence  which  I  have  been  able  to 
collect  on  the  subject,  the  introduction  of  the 
"Piccadilly"  was  at  least  not  of  an  earlier  period 
than  1614.  When  we  are  able,  therefore,  to 
prove  that  the  word  "Pickadilla"  was  in  common 
use  as  far  back  as  1596  (our  authority  is  Gerard's 
"  Herbal,"  where  the  "small  wild  buglosse,"  or  ox- 
tongue, is  spoken  of  as  growing  upon  the  banks  of 
the  dry  ditches  "about  Pickadilla"),  we  are  com- 
pelled to  disturb  the  old  opinion  that  the  present 
street  derives  its  name  from  a  fashionable  article 
of  dress  which  we  find  was  not  introduced  till 
nearly  twenty  years  after  "Pickadilla"  had  be- 


PICCADILLY.  27 

come  a  familiar  name,  and  which,  moreover,  was 
little  likely  to  be  sold  in  so  rural  a  district  as  Picca- 
dilly was  in  the  days  of  James  the  First. 

Let  us  be  allowed  to  throw  out  one  suggestion 
on  the  subject.  Pickadilla  House,  which  stood 
nearly  on  the  site  of  the  present  Panton  Square, 
was  a  fashionable  place  of  amusement,  apparently 
as  far  back  as  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  and  contin- 
ued to  be  so  nearly  till  the  time  of  the  Common- 
wealth.1 It  has  been  the  custom  of  all  countries 
to  confer  an  alluring  name  on  places  of  amuse- 
ment,—  as,  for  instance,  we  find  the  fashionable 
"  Folly "  floating  on  the  Thames  in  the  days  of 
Charles  the  Second,  —  and  I  cannot,  therefore, 
but  think  that  Pickadilla  House  derived  its  name 
simply  from  the  Spanish  word  peccadillo,  literally 
meaning  a  venial  fault,  but  which  was  intended, 
perhaps,  to  imply  more  than  met  the  eye.  Under 
all  circumstances,  it  seems  far  more  reasonable  to 
suppose  that  the  newly  invented  ruff  should  have 
derived  its  name  from  being  worn  by  the  fair 
ladies  and  silken  gallants  who  frequented  Picka- 
dilla House,  than  that  a  trifling  article  of  dress 
should  have  given  a  name,  first  to  the  suburban 
emporium  in  which  it  is  asserted  to  have  been 
sold,  and  afterward  to  one  of  the  principal  streets 
in  Europe.  Why,  indeed,  should  a  ruff  have  been 
called  a  pickadilla,  unless  from  some  such  reason 

1  In  Faithorne's  "  Plan  of  London,"  published  in  1658,  we  find 
the  spot  still  laid  down  as  Pickadilly  Hall. 


28  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

as  we  have  mentioned?  Or  what  lady  is  there 
who  ever  went  into  the  fields  to  buy  her  attire? 
And,  in  the  days  of  Elizabeth  and  James  the  First, 
Pickadilla  House  stood  literally  in  the  fields.  The 
fact,  however,  that  "  Pickadilla  "  was  a  well-known 
spot,  nearly  twenty  years  before  the  introduction 
of  the  "  pickadel,"  or  "  turnover,"  at  least  puts  one 
part  of  the  argument  at  rest.  We  have  already 
employed  more  time  on  the  subject  than  perhaps 
it  deserves,  and  must  leave  the  vexata  questio  to 
be  decided  by  some  more  ingenious  antiquary. 

In  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  as  appears  by 
Aggas's  "Plan  of  London,"  published  in  1560, 
the  present  line  of  Piccadilly,  extending  from  the 
Haymarket  to  Hyde  Park  Corner,  was  a  mere 
road,  which  ran  through  an  open  country,  and 
was  called  "the  Roade  to  Readinge."  Piccadilly 
appears  to  have  been  formed  into  a  street  about 
the  year  1642.  It  extended  then  no  farther  than 
the  end  of  the  present  Swallow  Street,  and  when 
afterward,  in  the  reign  of  Charles  the  Second,  it 
was  continued  in  the  direction  of  Hyde  Park 
Corner,  the  new  street,  in  compliment  to  Cath- 
erine of  Braganza,  obtained  the  name  of  Portugal 
Street.  In  a  map  of  London,  printed  in  1707, 
Piccadilly  and  Portugal  Street  are  laid  down  as 
two  distinct  streets.  Two  years  afterward,  as 
appears  by  the  Tatler  of  the  i8th  of  April, 
1709,  the  whole  line  of  street  came  to  be  known 
by  its  present  denomination.  There  is  an  absurd 


PICCADILLY.  29 

story,  which  has  received  the  authority  of  Pen- 
nant, that  when  Richard,  the  third  Earl  of  Burling- 
ton, erected  the  present  Burlington  House,  he 
observed  that  he  had  placed  it  there  "  because  he 
was  certain  that  no  one  would  build  beyond  him." 
So  far,  however,  is  this  story  from  being  true, 
that  we  have  seen  Piccadilly  already  extending 
toward  Hyde  Park  Corner  in  the  days  of  Charles 
the  Second,  whereas  Lord  Burlington  was  not 
even  born  till  the  reign  of  William  the  Third. 

Although  Piccadilly  is  a  street  comparatively  of 
modern  date,  there  is  much  to  interest  us  in  a 
stroll  from  Hyde  Park  Corner  to  its  termination, 
at  the  west  end  of  Coventry  Street.  The  houses 
numbered  138  and  139,  close  to  the  Park,  which 
are  now  the  residences  of  the  Earls  of  Cadogan 
and  Roseberry,  were  formerly  one  mansion,  which 
was  occupied  by  the  celebrated  William,  Duke  of 
Queensberry,  familiarly  known  as  "old  Q."  In 
his  old  age,  it  was  his  custom,  in  fine  sunny 
weather,  to  seat  himself  in  his  balcony,  where  his 
remarkable  figure  was  familiar  to  every  person 
who  was  in  the  habit  of  passing  through  this 
great  thoroughfare.  Here  (his  emaciated  figure 
rendered  the  more  conspicuous  from  his  custom 
of  holding  a  parasol  over  his  head)  he  was  in  the 
habit  of  watching  every  attractive  female  form, 
and  ogling  every  pretty  face  that  passed  by.  He 
is  said,  indeed,  to  have  kept  a  pony  and  a  servant 
always  in  readiness,  in  order  to  follow,  and  ascer- 


30  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

tain  the  residence  of  any  fair  girl  whose  attractions 
particularly  caught  his  fancy.  There  are  many 
who  may  call  to  mind  the  flight  of  steps  descend- 
ing from  the  first  floor  into  the  street,  which  were 
constructed  for  the  convenience  of  the  duke  in  his 
latter  days,  and  which  have  only  within  the  last 
few  years  been  removed. 

The  first  street  diverging  from  Piccadilly  of  any 
particular  interest  is  Half  Moon  Street,  which  de- 
rives its  name  from  a  public-house  called  the  "  Half 
Moon,"  which  stood  at  the  corner.  Here  died  the 
charming  comic  actress,  Mrs.  Pope.  After  having 
performed  at  Drury  Lane  for  forty  years,  she 
retired  from  the  stage  into  private  life,  with  an 
unblemished  character  and  an  easy  fortune.  She 
was  supposed  to  bear  a  strong  resemblance  to  the 
beautiful  Lady  Sarah  Bunbury,  the  first,  and  per- 
haps the  only,  romantic  love  of  George  the  Third. 
Many  years  after  the  beauty  of  both  ladies  had 
been  on  the  decline,  the  king  happened  to  attend 
the  performances  at  Drury  Lane  when  Mrs.  Pope 
was  acting.  The  recollection  of  his  earliest  love 
came  back  to  his  mind,  and,  in  a  moment  of  mel- 
ancholy abstraction,  he  is  said  to  have  observed 
to  the  queen,  "  She  is  like  Lady  Sarah  still." 

In  1768  we  find  Boswell  lodging  in  Half  Moon 
Street,  and  entertaining  Doctor  Johnson  as  his 
guest.  At  No.  i  also,  at  the  close  of  life,  resided 
Madame  D'Arblay,  the  celebrated  authoress  of 
"  Evelina,"  and  "  Cecilia." 


PICCADILLY.  31 

Passing  on,  we  come  to  Clarges  Street,  so  called 
from  its  being  the  site  of  Clarges  House,  the  resi- 
dence of  Sir  Thomas  Clarges,  brother-in-law  of 
the  celebrated  George  Monk,  Duke  of  Albemarle. 
In  this  street  lived  at  one  period  the  great  admi- 
ral, Earl  St.  Vincent,  and  here,  on  the  igth  of 
February,  1806,  died,  in  extreme  old  age,  the  well- 
known  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Carter.  At  the  northwest 
corner  of  Bolton  Street,  now  occupied  by  Lord 
Ashburton,  stood  old  Bath  House,  formerly  the 
residence  of  William  Pulteney,  Earl  of  Bath,  the 
formidable  antagonist  of  Sir  Robert  Walpole ;  and 
from  the  house  No.  80  Piccadilly,  now  occupied 
by  the  Duke  of  St.  Albans,  Sir  Francis  Burdett 
was  taken  to  the  Tower  in  1810. 

**  The  lady  she  sat  and  she  played  on  the  lute, 

And  she  sung,  '  Will  you  come  to  the  bower?' 
The  sergeant-at-arms  had  stood  hitherto  mute, 
And  now  he  advanced,  like  an  impudent  brute, 
And  said,  '  Will  you  come  to  the  Tower  ? '  " 

I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  point  out  the  London 
residence  of  the  great  poet  Pope.  He  lived  at 
No.  9  Berkeley  Street,  leading  from  Piccadilly 
into  Berkeley  Square,  close  to  his  friend,  Lord 
Burlington ;  and  it  was  here,  possibly,  on  the  eve 
of  his  departure  to  his  quiet  retreat  at  Twicken- 
ham, that  he  composed  his  "  Farewell  to  London," 

in  1715. 

"  Luxurious  lobster-nights,  farewell, 
For  sober  studious  days, 


32  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

And  Burlington's  delicious  meal, 
For  salads,  tarts,  and  peas." 

I  am  assured  that  in  the  lease  of  the  house,  the 
name  of  "  Mr.  Alexander  Pope  "  occurs  as  a  former 
occupant.  From  the  poet  it  passed  into  the  hands 
of  General  Bulkeley,  who  died  about  the  year  1815, 
at  an  extreme  old  age.  The  present  occupant  in- 
forms me  that  he  well  remembers  that  whenever 
the  general  visited  his  family  it  was  invariably  his 
habit  to  observe,  with  an  air  of  respectful  interest, 
"  This  is  the  house  Mr.  Alexander  Pope  lived  in  !  " 

It  was  to  his  house  in  Berkeley  Street  that  Mr. 
Chaworth  was  carried  after  he  received  his  death- 
wound  in  his  famous  duel  with  Lord  Byron  in 
Pall  Mall. 

In  the  days  of  Charles  the  Second,  when  Picca- 
dilly was  almost  open  country,  the  space  between 
Clarges  Street  and  the  Albany  was  occupied  by 
three  large  villas,  each  surrounded  by  spacious 
pleasure-grounds,  built  respectively  by  Lord  Berke- 
ley of  Stratton,  the  great  Lord  Clarendon,  and  the 
well-known  and  wealthy  poet,  Sir  John  Denham. 
Opposite,  on  the  site  of  Arlington  Street,  stood 
Goring  House,  the  residence  of  the  notorious 
statesman,  Henry  Bennet,  Earl  of  Arlington. 

We  will  first  speak  of  Berkeley  House,  which 
stood  nearly  on  the  site  of  the  present  Devonshire 
House.  It  was  built  by  Lord  Berkeley  of  Strat- 
ton, about  the  year  1670,  on  a  property  called 
Hay  Hill  Farm,  from  whence  Hay  Street,  Hill 


PICCADILLY.  33 

Street,  Farm  Street,  and  Hay  Hill  have  derived 
their  names,  as  have  Berkeley  Street,  Berkeley 
Square,  and  Stratton  Street,  from  his  lordship's 
titles.  Pepys  writes  :  "25th  September,  1672,  I 
dined  at  Lord  John  Berkeley's.  It  was  in  his 
new  house,  or  rather  palace,  for  I  am  assured  it 
stood  him  in  nearly  ,£30,000.  It  is  very  well 
built,  and  has  many  noble  rooms,  but  they  are  not 
very  convenient,  consisting  but  of  one  corps  de 
logis  ;  they  are  all  rooms  of  state,  without  closets. 
The  staircase  is  of  cedar,  the  furniture  is  princely, 
the  kitchen  and  stables  are  ill-placed,  and  the 
corridor  worse,  having  no  respect  to  the  wings 
they  join  to.  For  the  rest,  the  fore-court  is  noble, 
so  are  the  stables,  and,  above  all,  the  gardens, 
which  are  incomparable,  by  reason  of  the  inequal- 
ity of  the  ground,  and  a  pretty  piscina.  The 
holly  hedges  on  the  terrace  I  advised  the  plant- 
ing of." 

Evelyn  also  speaks  with  enthusiasm  of  the 
"noble  gardens"  and  "stately  porticos"  of 
Berkeley  House.  The  former  must  have  been 
of  great  size,  when  we  remember  that  they  ex- 
tended over  the  ground  now  occupied  by  Lans- 
downe  House  and  Berkeley  Square.  In  1684,  a 
part  of  them  were  let  out  for  the  purpose  of  being 
built  upon.  Evelyn  mentions  his  deep  regret  at 
witnessing  the  work  of  partitioning,  and  the  sacri- 
lege offered  to  the  "  sweet  place  ; "  while  at  the 
same  time  he  inveighs  against  the  "mad  intern- 


34  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

perance  of  the  age,"  in  increasing  the  city,  which 
he  says  is  far  out  of  proportion  to  the  nation,  and 
which  in  his  time  had  been  enlarged  nearly  ten- 
fold. What  would  Evelyn  say  to  London  as  it 
now  stands ! 

In  1695,  when  on  bad  terms  with  her  brother- 
in-law,  King  William,  Queen  Anne,  then  Princess 
of  Denmark,  took  up  her  abode  at  Berkeley  House. 
A  few  years  afterward,  the  original  mansion  was 
burnt  down,  and,  early  in  the  last  century,  the 
present  unsightly  structure  was  erected  —  after 
a  design  by  Kent  —  by  William,  third  Duke  of 
Devonshire.  Beyond  the  fact  of  its  having  been 
tenanted  by  more  than  one  titled  "  transmitter  of 
a  foolish  face,"  we  know  of  no  particular  interest 
that  attaches  itself  to  the  present  structure.  Let 
us  except,  however,  the  brief  period  when  the 
beautiful  Georgiana,  Duchess  of  Devonshire,  held 
her  court  within  its  walls,  and  when  Fox,  Burke, 
Wyndham,  Fitzpatrick,  and  Sheridan  did  homage 
at  her  feet.  It  would  be  difficult,  at  the  present 
day,  to  convey  even  the  slightest  notion  of  the  sen- 
sation which  the  lovely  and  charming  duchess  — 
herself  a  poetess  and  a  wit — created  in  the  last 
age,  or  of  the  influence  which  she  exercised  over 
the  fashion  and  politics  of  her  time.  Distinguished 
by  her  high  rank,  her  surpassing  loveliness,  and  the 
peculiar  fascination  of  her  manners,  —  surrounding 
herself  with  the  gay,  the  beautiful,  the  witty,  and 
the  wise,  —  Devonshire  House,  under  the  auspices 


PICCADILLY.  35 

of  this  charming  woman,  displayed  a  scene  of  almost 
romantic  brilliancy  to  which  the  court  of  our  own 
day  can  present  no  parallel.  Berkeley  House, 
it  may  be  remarked,  was  the  residence  of  the 
Cavendish  family,  at  least  as  early  as  the  reign 
of  Charles  the  Second.  We  find  the  venerable 
Christiana,  widow  of  William,  the  second  earl, — 
to  whom  she  had  been  given  away  at  the  altar 
by  James  the  First,  —  maintaining  a  splendid  and 
hospitable  establishment  here  in  1 674,  when  Waller 
and  Denham  were  her  guests.  In  1697,  we  find 
William  the  Third  dining  with  William,  the  first 
duke,  and  here  both  the  first  and  second  dukes, 
and  the  "beautiful  duchess,"  breathed  their  last. 

The  gardens  of  Clarendon  House  appear  to  have 
adjoined  those  of  Berkeley  House,  and  to  have  ex- 
tended to  the  east  as  far  as  the  present  Burlington 
Arcade.  Clarendon  House,  the  delight  and  pride 
of  the  great  Earl  of  Clarendon,  is  said,  by  Burnet, 
to  have  cost  him  ,£50,000,  a  vast  sum,  if  we  con- 
sider the  relative  value  of  money  in  the  days  of 
Charles  the  Second's  time,  and  at  the  present 
time.  His  enemies  called  it  Dunkirk  House,  as- 
serting that  it  had  been  built  with  a  sum  which 
he  had  received  as  a  bribe  from  the  French  gov- 
ernment for  permitting  the  sale  of  Dunkirk.  Eve- 
lyn writes,  on  the  i5th  of  October,  1664:  "After 
dinner,  my  lord  chancellor  and  his  lady  carried 
me  in  their  coach  to  see  their  new  palace,  now 
building  at  the  upper  end  of  St.  James's  Street, 


36  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

and  to  project  the  garden."  Pepys  also  writes,  on 
the  3 ist  of  January,  1665-6:  "To  my  lord  chan- 
cellor's new  house,  which  he  is  building,  only  to 
view  it,  hearing  so  much  from  Mr.  Evelyn  of  it ; 
and  indeed  it  is  the  finest  pile  I  ever  did  see  in 
my  life,  and  will  be  a  glorious  house."  Evelyn 
speaks  of  Clarendon  House  as  possessing  many 
architectural  defects,  but  he  adds  that,  on  the 
whole,  it  stood  most  gracefully,  and  was  a  stately 
and  magnificent  pile. 

In  Evelyn's  diary  for  the  2/th  of  August,  1667, 
a  few  days  after  the  disgrace  of  the  great  chan- 
cellor, we  find  an  interesting  passage  connected 
with  Clarendon  House.  "  I  visited  the  lord  chan- 
cellor," says  Evelyn,  "to  whom  his  Majesty  had 
sent  for  the  seals  a  few  days  before ;  I  found  him 
in  his  bedchamber,  very  sad.  The  Parliament  had 
accused  him,  and  he  had  enemies  at  court,  espe- 
cially the  buffoons  and  ladies  of  pleasure,  because 
he  thwarted  some  of  them  and  stood  in  their  way. 
I  could  name  some  of  the  chief.  The  truth  is,  he 
made  few  friends  during  his  grandeur  among  the 
royal  sufferers,  but  advanced  the  old  rebels.  He 
was,  however,  though  no  considerable  lawyer,  one 
who  kept  up  the  form  and  substance  of  things 
with  more  solemnity  than  some  would  have  had." 
Again  Evelyn  adds,  on  the  gth  of  December  :  "  To 
visit  the  late  lord  chancellor  I  found  him  in  his 
garden  at  his  new-built  palace,  sitting  in  his  gout 
wheel-chair,  and  seeing  the  gate  setting  up  toward 


PICCADILLY.  37 

the  north  and  the  fields.  He  looked  and  spake 
very  disconsolately.  Next  morning  I  heard  he 
was  gone." 

The  chancellor  died  in  exile,  and  shortly  after- 
ward Clarendon  House  was  sold  by  his  successor 
to  Christopher  Monk,  second  Duke  of  Albemarle, 
for  .£25,000.  The  duke  appears  to  have  resided 
here  for  some  time,  but  afterward  parted  with  it 
for  about  £35,000,  when  it  was  immediately  lev- 
elled to  the  ground,  and  the  present  Dover  Street, 
Albemarle  Street,  Old  Bond  Street,  and  Grafton 
Street  were  erected  on  the  site  of  its  beautiful 
gardens.  Evelyn  witnessed  with  great  pain  "the 
sad  demolition  of  that  costly  and  sumptuous  palace 
of  the  late  lord  chancellor,  where  he  had  often 
been  so  cheerful  with  him,  and  sometimes  so  sad." 
And  on  the  iQth  of  June,  1683,  he  writes  :  "  I 
returned  to  town  with  the  Earl  of  Clarendon ; 
when  passing  by  the  glorious  palace  his  father 
built  but  a  few  years  before,  which  they  were  now 
demolishing,  being  sold  to  certain  undertakers,  I 
turned  my  head  the  contrary  way  till  the  coach 
was  gone  past  it,  lest  I  might  minister  occasion 
of  speaking  of  it,  which  must  needs  have  grieved 
him,  that  in  so  short  a  time  their  pomp  was  fallen." 
Close  to  Berkeley  Street  is  an  archway  (leading 
to  the  "  Three  Kings "  public-house  and  livery 
stables),  on  each  side  of  which  is  a  Corinthian 
pillar,  which,  according  to  Mr.  D' Israeli,  are  the 
last  remains  existing  of  Clarendon  House. 


430161 


38  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

Burlington  House  stands  on  the  site  of  a  house 
built  by  the  celebrated  poet,  Sir  John  Denham,  in 
the  reign  of  Charles  the  Second.  The  present 
mansion  was  erected  by  Richard  Boyle,  third  Earl 
of  Burlington,  who  was  the  architect  of  his  own 
house,  as  he  also  was  of  the  Duke  of  Devonshire's 
palladian  villa  at  Chiswick,  and,  in  conjunction 
with  the  Earl  of  Pembroke,  of  Marble  Hill,  near 
Twickenham. 

"  Who  plants  like  Bathurst,  and  who  builds  like  Boyle  ?  " 

Horace  Walpole  says  of  Burlington  House : 
"  I  had  not  only  never  seen  it,  but  never  heard  of 
it,  at  least  with  any  attention,  when,  soon  after  my 
return  from  Italy,  I  was  invited  to  a  ball  at  Bur- 
lington House.  As  I  passed  under  the  gate  by 
night  it  could  not  strike  me.  At  daybreak,  look- 
ing out  of  the  window  to  see  the  sun  rise,  I  was 
surprised  with  the  vision  of  the  colonnade  that 
fronted  me.  It  seemed  one  of  those  edifices  in 
fairy  tales  that  are  raised  by  genii  in  the  night's 
time."  Pope  was  a  constant  visitor  at  Burlington 
House,  and  has  celebrated  "  Burlington's  delicious 
meal "  in  some  verses  which  we  have  already 
quoted.  Gay,  too,  tells  us  that  he  always  entered 
Burlington  House  with  "cleaner  shoes,"  and  we 
find  the  great  musician,  Handel,  a  cherished  guest. 
Gay  says,  in  his  "  Trivia  : " 

"...  Burlington's  fair  palace  still  remains, 
Beauty  within ;  without,  proportion  reigns ; 


PICCADILLY.  39 

There  Handel  strikes  the  strings,  the  melting  strain 
Transports  the  soul,  and  thrills  through  every  vein ; 
There  oft  I  enter  —  but  with  cleaner  shoes, 
For  Burlington's  beloved  by  every  muse." 

In  Dover  Street,  at  the  close  of  life,  on  the  site 
of  the  "fair  gardens  "  which  he  had  formerly  laid 
out  for  his  illustrious  friend,  Lord  Clarendon,  lived 
the  amiable  and  high-minded  philosopher,  John 
Evelyn.  Here  also,  when  the  death  of  his  royal 
mistress,  Queen  Anne,  drove  him  from  St.  James's 
Palace,  lived  the  witty  and  amiable  Doctor  Ar- 
buthnot,  the  friend  of  Swift,  Pope,  and  Gay,  and 
beloved  by  every  man  of  genius  who  lived  in 
the  Augustan  age  of  England. 

Albemarle  Street  derives  its  name  from  Christo- 
pher, second  Duke  of  Albemarle,  who  succeeded 
the  Earls  of  Clarendon  in  the  possession  of  Clar- 
endon House.  Till  very  recently  the  "  Duke  of 
Albemarle"  public-house  was  still  to  be  seen  in 
Dover  Street.  Albemarle  Street  witnessed  the 
last  scenes  of  "  Harley's  closing  life,"  that  cele- 
brated statesman  having  breathed  his  last  at  his 
house  in  this  street,  on  the  2ist  of  May,  1724. 

It  was  in  Albemarle  Street,  at  the  house  of  Lord 
Grantham,  that  George  the  Second,  when  Prince  of 
Wales,  kept  his  court  after  his  memorable  quarrel 
with  his  father  in  1717.  Sir  Gustavus  Hume, 
groom  of  the  bedchamber  to  George  the  First, 
writes,  on  the  24th  of  December,  to  the  Earl  of 
Marchmont :  "  The  prince  and  princess,  after  hav- 


40  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

ing  been  both  very  ill,  are  now  perfectly  recov- 
ered ;  they  are  still  at  my  Lord  Grantham's,  in 
Albemarle  Street,  where  they  saw  company  last 
Sunday  for  the  first  time.  I  am  told  his  High- 
ness's  levee  was  very  slender,  not  above  three  or 
four  noblemen,  and  they  such  as  have  not  appeared 
at  St.  James's  for  a  long  time.  All  such  as  are 
admitted  to  the  king's  court  are  under  strict  orders 
not  to  go  at  any  time  to  the  prince  or  princess's, 
more  particularly  all  of  us  that  have  the  honour 
to  be  immediately  in  his  Majesty's  service.  This 
unhappy  difference  gives  a  sensible  disturbance  to 
all  honest  men,  and  as  much  pleasure  to  all  those 
that  are  enemies  to  the  family." 

Hereafter  Albemarle  Street  will  be  interesting 
to  the  lovers  of  past  history  from  its  containing 
the  residence  of  the  late  Mr.  Murray,  — 

"  Lintot  and  Tonson  of  his  day,"  — 

at  whose  hospitable  table  have  assembled  every 
person  of  talent  of  the  present  century,  and  whose 
house  is  especially  interesting  from  so  many  liter- 
ary recollections.  He  informed  me,  I  remember, 
that  it  was  in  walking  up  and  down  Albemarle 
Street  that  Lord  Byron  composed  thejgreater  part 
of  the  "  Corsair." 

On  the  site  of  the  Albany  stood  the  house  and 
gardens  of  the  celebrated  minister,  Charles  Spencer, 
Earl  of  Sunderland,  who  died  in  1722.  The  first 
and  late  Lord  Melbourne  afterward  built  a  house 


PICCADILLY.  41 

on  the  spot,  which  he  subsequently  exchanged 
with  the  Duke  of  York  for  his  mansion  in  White- 
hall, now  the  residence  of  Lady  Dover.  Having 
been  deserted  by  his  Royal  Highness,  a  set  of 
chambers  were  erected  on  the  gardens,  —  to  which 
purpose  also  the  house  was  converted,  —  and  they 
then  received  the  name  of  the  Albany  Chambers, 
from  the  duke's  second  title  of  Duke  of  Albany. 
In  1814  Lord  Byron  was  residing  at  No.  2,  in  the 
Albany,  and  it  was  during  his  residence  here  that 
"  Lara  "  was  published,  and  apparently  composed. 
In  his  journal  of  the  28th  of  March  he  writes : 
"  This  night  I  got  into  my  new  apartments,  rented 
of  Lord  Althorpe,  on  the  lease  of  seven  years. 
Spacious,  and  room  for  my  books  and  sabres.  In 
the  house,  too,  another  advantage.  The  last  few 
days,  or  whole  week,  have  been  very  abstemious, 
regular  in  exercise,  and  yet  very  unwell."  And 
again  he  writes,  on  the  loth  of  the  following  month  : 
"  I  do  not  know  that  I  am  happiest  when  alone  ; 
but  this  I  am  sure  of,  that  I  never  am  long  in  the 
society  even  of  her  I  love  without  a  yearning  for 
the  company  of  my  lamp,  and  my  utterly  confused 
and  tumbled-over  library.  I  have  not  stirred  out 
of  these  rooms  four  days  past,  but  I  have  sparred 
for  exercise  (windows  open)  with  Jackson  an  hour 
daily  to  attenuate  and  keep  up  the  ethereal  part 
of  me." 

Nearly  opposite  to  the  Albany  is  St.  James's 
Church,  built  by  Sir  Christopher  Wren   in   the 


42  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

reign  of  James  the  Second.  The  interior  is  as 
beautiful  as  the  exterior  is  unseemly  ;  but  even  if 
it  possessed  no  other  object  of  beauty  or  interest, 
the  exquisite  marble  font,  the  work  of  Grinlin 
Gibbons,  would  alone  render  it  worthy  of  a  visit. 
In  this  church  is  buried  the  celebrated  footman 
and  bookseller,  dramatist  and  poet,  Robert  Dods- 
ley,  and  in  the  chancel  lies  the  body  of  William, 
Duke  of  Queensberry,  to  whose  eccentricities  we 
have  already  alluded.  There  are  few  who  have 
passed  by  the  Jermyn  Street  entrance  to  St.  James's 
churchyard  who  have  not  noticed  a  small  stone  in 
the  wall  of  the  tower  to  the  memory  of  Tom  D'Ur- 
fey,  the  poet,  on  whose  shoulders  Charles  the 
Second  used  familiarly  to  lean,  and  hum  gay  tunes 
in  concert  with  his  favourite.  The  inscription  is 
sufficiently  brief  :  "  Tom  D'Urfey,  died  Feb.  ye 
26th,  1723."  On  the  west  side  of  the  parsonage- 
house  may  be  seen  a  flat  stone  to  the  memory  of 
the  inimitable  Gillray  :  "  In  memory  of  Mr.  James 
Gillray,  the  caricaturist,  who  departed  this  life  ist 
of  June,  1815,  aged  58  years." 

4We  have  already  mentioned  that  Piccadilly 
House  stood  on  the  site  of  Panton  Square,  at 
the  east  end  of  Piccadilly,  and  that  it  continued 
to  be  a  fashionable  place  of  amusement  till  the 
middle  of  the  seventeenth  century.  Lord  Claren- 
don, then  Mr.  Hyde,  speaking  of  himself,  observes  : 
"Mr.  Hyde,  going  to  a  house  called  Piccadilly, 
which  was  a  fair  house  for  entertainment  and 


PICCADILLY.  43 

gaming,  with  handsome  gravel  walks,  with  shade, 
and  where  were  an  upper  and  lower  bowling-green, 
whither  many  of  the  nobility  and  gentry  of  the 
best  quality  resorted  for  exercise  and  recreation." 
Piccadilly  House  is  generally  supposed  to  be  the 
same  place  of  amusement  as  that  mentioned  by 
Garrard  in  one  of  his  letters  to  the  Earl  of  Straf- 
ford.  "  Since  Spring  Gardens  was  put  down," 
he  writes,  in  June,  1635,  "we  have,  by  a  servant 
of  the  lord  chamberlain's,  a  new  Spring  Gardens 
erected  in  the  fields  beyond  the  Meuse,  where 
is  built  a  fair  house,  and  two  bowling-greens, 
made  to  entertain  gamesters  and  bowlers,  at  an 
excessive  rate,  for  I  believe  it  hath  cost  him 
about  ^4,000.  A  dear  undertaking  for  a  gentle- 
man barber.  My  lord  chamberlain  much  frequents 
this  place,  where  they  bowl  great  matches." 

Not  far  from  Panton  Square,  to  the  northwest, 
lies  Golden  Square ;  originally,  according  to  Pen- 
nant, called  Gelding  Square,  from  the  sign  of  a 
public-house  which  formerly  stood  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood. This,  however,  is  unquestionably  a  mis- 
take. The  name  was  originally  Golding  Square, 
as  appears  by  the  "  New  View  of  London,"  pub- 
lished in  1707,  about  ten  years  after  its  erection, 
and  it  is  there  distinctly  stated  to  derive  its  name 
from  one  Golding,  who  built  it.  This  gloomy-look- 
ing square,  once  one  of  the  most  fashionable  sites 
in  the  metropolis,  was  built,  after  the  accession  of 
William  the  Third,  in  what  were  then  styled  the 


44  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

Pest  House  Fields,  the  site  of  a  lazaretto  erected 
by  Lord  Craven  as  a  receptacle  for  the  miserable 
sufferers  from  the  great  plague  of  1665. 

One  would  wish  to  be  able  to  point  out  the 
house  in  Golden  Square  which  was  once  the  resi- 
dence of  the  celebrated  Henry  St.  John,  Lord 
Bolingbroke.  Here  he  entertained  for  the  last 
time  at  dinner  his  former  colleague  and  friend, 
the  no  less  celebrated  Harley,  when,  among  other 
guests,  were  present  the  Duke  of  Shrewsbury, 
Earl  Powlet,  and  Lord  Rochester,  and  where  the 
latter,  we  are  told,  "  taking  pains  to  calm  the  spirit 
of  division  and  ambition,"  made  a  vain  attempt  to 
effect  a  reconciliation  between  the  rival  politicians. 
Here,  a  few  months  afterward,  we  find  Boling- 
broke entertaining  the  great  Duke  of  Marlborough 
as  his  guest ;  here  he  was  residing  when  the  death 
of  Queen  Anne  effected  so  extraordinary  a  revolu- 
tion in  his  fortunes,  and  from  hence,  apparently, 
he  departed  by  stealth,  in  the  dress  of  a  servant, 
on  the  night  of  his  memorable  escape  to  the 
Continent. 

Either  in  Golden  Square,  or  in  the  immediate 
neighbourhood,  at  the  house  of  her  father,  who 
was  a  painter,  lived  the  beautiful  singer  Anastasia 
Robinson.  Although  a  performer  at  the  opera,  a 
teacher  of  music,  and  of  the  Italian  language,  — 
occupations  which  constantly  threw  her  in  the 
way  of  temptation,  —  she  refused  to  enrich  her- 
self by  any  illicit  connection,  and  for  some  years 


PICCADILLY.  45 

supported  an  aged  father  by  her  industry  and  her 
talents.  Her  beauty  and  her  virtue  captured  the 
heart  of  the  celebrated  and  eccentric  Charles  Mor- 
daunt,  Earl  of  Peterborough,  who  privately  married 
her  toward  the  close  of  his  long  life.  Their  mar- 
riage was  not  acknowledged  till  the  year  1735,  but, 
as  many  as  twelve  years  previous  to  its  announce- 
ment, we  find  Lord  Peterborough  horsewhipping 
a  foreign  singer,  Senescino,  at  a  rehearsal,  for  some 
offence  which  he  -had  given  to  his  future  countess. 
Of  the  year  in  which  they  were  married  we  have 
no  record ;  indeed,  it  was  only  when  broken  down 
by  disease,  and  when  harassed  by  her  repeated 
refusals  to  live  under  the  same  roof  with  him, 
unless  he  acknowledged  her  as  his  wife,  that  Lord 
Peterborough  was  induced  to  divulge  his  secret  to 
the  world.  Even  when  he  proclaimed  his  weak- 
ness, it  was  in  a  very  characteristic  manner.  He 
went  one  evening  to  the  rooms  at  Bath,  where  a 
servant  had  previously  received  orders  to  exclaim, 
in  a  distinct  and  audible  voice,  "  Lady  Peterbor- 
ough's carriage  waits."  Every  lady  of  rank  and 
fashion,  we  are  told,  immediately  rose,  and  offered 
their  congratulations  to  the  new  countess.  Gay, 
in  his  "  Epistle  to  William  Pulteney,"  has  cele- 
brated the  vocal  powers  of  the  beautiful  songstress : 

"  O  soothe  me  with  some  soft  Italian  air, 
Let  harmony  compose  my  tortured  ear  ; 
When  Anastasia's  voice  commands  the  strain, 
The  melting  warble  thrills  through  every  vein ; 


46  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

Thought  stands  suspended,  silence  pleased  attends, 
While  in  her  notes  the  heavenly  choir  descends." 

It  is  in  this  square  that  Smollet  makes  Matthew 
Bramble  and  his  sister,  with  Humphrey  Clinker  and 
Winifred  Jenkins,  take  up  their  residence. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  GREEN  PARK  AND  HYDE  PARK. 

The  Green  Park  —  Duel  between  the  Earl  of  Bath  and  Lord 
Hervey  —  Hyde  Park  in  the  Reigns  of  Henry  the  Eighth, 
Queen  Elizabeth,  Queen  Anne,  Cromwell,  and  Charles  the 
Second  —  Famous  Duel  between  Lord  Mohun  and  the  Duke 
of  Hamilton  —  M'Lean  and  Belchier  the  Highwaymen  — 
Mysterious  Incident  to  the  Duke  of  Marlborough. 

PREVIOUS  to  the  Restoration,  the  site  of  the 
Green  Park  was  occupied  by  meadows,  and  it  is  to 
Charles  the  Second  that  the  children  who  fly  kites, 
and  the  nursery-maids  who  make  love,  are  indebted 
for  its  being  converted  into  an  appanage  of  St. 
James's  Palace.  With  the  exception  of  its  being 
the  scene  of  a  remarkable  duel  between  the  cele- 
brated minister,  Pulteney,  afterward  Earl  of  Bath, 
and  the  scarcely  less  celebrated  John,  Lord  Her- 
vey, I  am  not  aware  that  the  Green  Park  possesses 
any  particular  feature  of  interest.  In  1730  there 
appeared  in  print  a  pamphlet,  entitled  "  Sedition 
and  Defamation  Displayed,"  which  the  world  in 
general  attributed  to  Lord  Hervey,  and  which 
contained  a  violent  personal  attack  on  Pulteney. 
This  pamphlet  was  replied  to  by  the  latter,  who, 
believing  it  to  be  the  production  of  Lord  Hervey, 

47 


48  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

vomited  forth  an  acrimonious  attack  on  its  pre- 
sumed author.  Alluding  to  the  well-known  effem- 
inate appearance  and  habits  of  Lord  Hervey, 
Pulteney  speaks  of  his  opponent  as  a  thing  half 
man  and  half  woman,  and  dwells  malignantly  on 
those  personal  infirmities,  produced  by  suffering 
and  disease,  which  Pope  afterward  introduced  with 
no  less  acrimony,  but  with  increased  wit,  in  his 
celebrated  character  of  "  Sporus." 

Immediately  on  the  production  of  the  offensive 
pamphlet,  Lord  Hervey  sent  to  Pulteney,  inquir- 
ing whether  he  was  correct  in  presuming  him  to 
be  his  maligner?  To  this  Pulteney  replied  that, 
whether  or  no  he  was  the  author  of  the  "  Reply," 
he  was  ready  to  justify  and  stand  by  the  truth  of 
any  part  of  it,  "at  what  time  and  wherever  Lord 
Hervey  pleased."  "This  last  message,"  writes 
Thomas  Pelham  to  Lord  Waldegrave,  "  your  lord- 
ship will  easily  imagine  was  the  occasion  of  the 
duel ;  and,  accordingly,  on  Monday  last,  between 
three  and  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  they  met 
in  the  Upper  St.  James's  Park,  behind  Arlington 
Street,  with  their  two  seconds,  who  were  Mr.  Fox 
and  Sir  J.  Rushout.  The  two  combatants  were 
each  of  them  slightly  wounded,  but  Mr.  Pulteney 
had  once  so  much  the  advantage  of  Lord  Hervey 
that  he  would  infallibly  have  run  my  lord  through 
the  body  if  his  foot  had  not  slipped,  and  then  the 
seconds  took  an  occasion  to  part  them  ;  upon  which 
Mr.  Pulteney  embraced  Lord  Hervey,  and  ex- 


THE  GREEN  PARK  AND  HYDE  PARK.  49 

pressed  a  great  deal  of  concern  at  the  accident 
of  their  quarrel,  promising,  at  the  same  time,  that 
he  would  never  personally  attack  him  again,  either 
with  his  mouth  or  his  pen.  Lord  Hervey  made 
him  a  bow,  without  giving  him  any  sort  of  answer, 
and,  to  use  the  common  expression,  thus  they 
parted."  It  is  somewhat  singular  that  Lady  Her- 
vey, the  beautiful  and  celebrated  Mary  Lepel, 
should  have  afterward  built  and  resided  in  a  house 
in  the  Green  Park  immediately  overlooking  the 
spot  where  her  husband  had  so  narrow  an  escape 
from  the  sword  of  Lord  Bath. 

In  the  time  of  Henry  the  Eighth,  Hyde  Park 
formed  part  of  a  manor  belonging  to  the  abbot 
and  monks  of  Westminster ;  and,  in  a  survey  of 
church  lands,  taken  in  the  26th  year  of  the  reign 
of  that  monarch,  it  is  styled  Manerium  de  Hyde, 
and  is  valued  at  £14.  Although  there  is  some 
reason  to  believe  that  it  was  formed  into  a  park 
while  still  in  possession  of  the  monks  of  West- 
minster, we  have  no  positive  certainty  of  its  having 
been  enclosed  till  the  reign  of  Edward  the  Sixth, 
when  we  have  a  record  of  George  Roper  having 
been  appointed  keeper,  with  a  salary  of  sixpence 
a  day ! 

Previous  to  the  reign  of  Queen  Anne,  Hyde 
Park  was  of  much  larger  extent  than  it  is  at  the 
present  time.  In  1705,  that  princess  curtailed  it 
of  thirty  acres,  which  she  added  to  the  gardens  of 
Kensington  Palace,  which  a  few  years  previously 


50  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

had  been  purchased  by  William  the  Third  of  the 
Earl  of  Nottingham  ;  and,  in  1730,  Queen  Caroline, 
the  consort  of  George  the  Second,  appropriated  as 
many  as  three  hundred  acres  more  to  the  same 
purpose.  Another  and  still  more  deplorable  cur- 
tailment —  for  it  has  divorced,  as  far  as  the  pic- 
turesque is  concerned,  Hyde  Park  from  the  Green 
Park,  and  has  deprived  us  of  the  aspect  of  a  fine 
uninterrupted  space  of  pleasure-ground  —  was  the 
robbery  of  the  angular  piece  of  ground  from  Hyde 
Park  Corner  to  beyond  Hamilton  Place,  the  bound- 
ary-wall of  the  park  anciently  running  where  the 
houses  of  Park  Lane,  formerly  called  Tyburn  Lane, 
now  stand.  The  ranger's  house,  it  may  be  re- 
marked, stood  on  the  site  of  the  present  Apsley 
House,  and  on  the  site  of  Hamilton  Place  was  the 
famous  fortification  thrown  up  by  the  citizens  of 
London  at  the  threatened  approach  of  the  royal 
army  in  1642. 

It  would  be  idle  to  endeavour  to  trace  any  re- 
semblance between  the  Hyde  Park  of  our  own 
time  and  the  aspect  which  it  presented  as  late  as 
the  early  part  of  the  last  century.  In  the  reign 
of  Queen  Elizabeth,  we  read  of  its  "  herbage,  pan- 
nage, and  browze-wood  for  deer,"  and  its  solitary 
"  lodge  and  mansion  in  the  park ;  "  and,  at  a  much 
later  period,  we  find  mention  made  of  a  piece  of 
waste  ground  called  "the  Moor,"  the  "Tyburn 
meadow,"  and  a  "  parcel  of  meadow  ground  en- 
closed for  the  deer."  It  was,  indeed,  a  place  of 


THE  GREEN  PARK  AND  HYDE  PARK.  51 

fashionable  resort  as  early  as  the  days  of  the  Com- 
monwealth ;  but,  as  we  learn  from  De  Grammont, 
the  ground  was  then  a  mere  uncultivated  waste ; 
there  were  scattered  ponds,  and  "  browzing- 
grounds,"  and  thick  woods  ;  and  the  only  resort 
of  the  wealthy,  the  idle,  and  the  gay  was  the 
famous  "  Ring,"  around  which  there  was  a  circu- 
lar drive,  the  interior  being  planted  and  adorned 
according  to  the  taste  of  the  period.  The  domain 
must  then  have  extended  nearly  to  the  site  of 
Kensington  Palace,  and,  previous  to  the  reign  of 
George  the  Second,  there  was  a  string  of  pools, 
or  ponds,  from  the  Bayswater  Gate  (a  name  de- 
rived from  "  Bayard's  watering ")  to  the  present 
western  termination  of  the  Serpentine  River. 
These  ponds  were  connected  by  Queen  Caroline, 
and  to  her  we  are  indebted  for  the  present  beau- 
tiful sheet  of  water. 

In  the  reign  of  Charles  the  First,  we  find  races 
taking  place  in  Hyde  Park,  and  it  was  on  one  of 
these  occasions  that  the  unfortunate  Charles  gave 
that  mortal  offence  to  Henry  Marten,  the  regicide, 
which,  says  Aubrey,  afterward  "raised  the  whole 
county  of  Berks  against  him."  "  Marten,"  says 
Aubrey,  "  was  a  great  lover  of  pretty  girls,  to 
whom  he  was  so  liberal  that  he  spent  the  greatest 
part  of  his  estate.  King  Charles  the  First  had 
complaint  against  him  for  his  wenching :  it  hap- 
pened that  Henry  was  in  Hyde  Park  one  time 
when  his  Majesty  was  there,  going  to  see  a  race. 


52  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

The  king  espied  him,  and  said  aloud,  'Let  that 

ugly  rascal  be  gone  out  of  the  park,  that  w 

master,  or  else  I  will  not  see  the  sport.'  So 
Henry  went  away  patiently,  but  manebat  altd 
mente  repostum :  that  sarcasm  raised  the  whole 
county  of  Berks  against  him."  How  little  could 
Charles  have  imagined  that  the  "  ugly  rascal," 
whom  he  thus  rebuked,  should  afterward  sign  his 
death-warrant ! 

Under  the  rule  of  the  Puritans,  the  May  meet- 
ings, the  merry  sports,  and  festive  rejoicings, 
which  were  in  the  habit  of  taking  place  in  Hyde 
Park,  were  declared  to  be  iniquitous  and  abomina- 
ble. In  1652,  the  Parliament  ordered  the  manor 
to  be  sold  to  the  highest  bidder ;  and  consequently 
the  inhabitants  of  this  great  city  had  a  narrow 
escape  from  being  deprived  of  the  advantages  of 
fresh  air,  exercise,  and  beautiful  scenery,  which 
they  have  now  enjoyed  for  nearly  three  centuries. 
The  purchasers  were  Richard  Wilcox,  of  Kensing- 
ton, Esq. ;  John  Tracy,  of  London,  merchant ;  and 
Anthony  Deane,  of  St.  Martin  in  the  Fields,  Esq. 
The  latter  appears  to  have  become  the  proprietor 
of  that  part  of  the  park  in  which,  as  at  the  present 
day,  our  ancestors  came,  either  in  their  equipages 
or  on  horseback,  to  take  the  air.  Evelyn  writes, 
on  the  nth  of  April,  1653  :  "I  went  to  take  the 
air  in  Hyde  Park,  where  every  coach  was  made  to 
pay  a  shilling,  and  horse  sixpence,  by  the  sordid 
fellow  who  has  purchased  it  of  the  state,  as  they 


THE  GREEN  PARK  AND  HYDE  PARK.  53 

are  called."  For  some  years  after  the  Restoration 
the  park  continued  to  be  let  in  farms,  nor  was 
it  till  1670  that  it  was  entirely  surrounded  by  a 
wall,  and  restocked  with  deer.  In  the  days  of  the 
Commonwealth,  Hyde  Park  must  have  been  ex- 
tremely well  wooded,  for  we  find  the  timber  alone 
valued  at  ,£5,099.  igs.  6d.  The  deer  were  valued 
at  ^"765.  6s.  2.d. 

If  it  was  one  of  the  objects  of  the  Parliament, 
in  selling  Hyde  Park,  to  prevent  its  being  the 
scene  of  May  meetings,  and  similar  kinds  of  fes- 
tivities, the  result  was  certainly  not  what  they 
anticipated.  On  the  ist  of  May,  1654,  about  a 
year  after  it  had  become  private  property,  we 
read :  "  This  day  was  more  observed  by  people 
going  a-maying  than  for  diverse  years  past,  and 
indeed  much  sin  committed  by  wicked  meetings 
with  fiddlers,  drunkenness,  ribaldry,  and  the  like ; 
great  resort  came  to  Hyde  Park,  many  hundreds 
of  coaches  and  gallants  in  attire,  but  most  shame- 
ful powdered-hair  men,  and  painted  and  spotted 
women.  Some  men  played  with  a  silver  ball,  and 
some  took  other  recreation.  But  his  Highness, 
the  Lord  Protector,  went  not  thither,  nor  any  of 
the  lords  of  the  Commonwealth,  but  were  busy 
about  the  great  affairs  of  the  Commonwealth." 
The  Moderate  Intelligencer,  dated  the  same  day 
as  the  preceding  extract,  gives  a  similar  account 
of  the  May  sports  in  Hyde  Park  ;  but  it  is  there 
distinctly  stated  that  Cromwell  was  present. 


54  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

"  This  day  there  was  a  hurling  of  a  great  ball  by 
fifty  Cornish  gentlemen  on  one  side,  and  fifty  on 
the  other ;  one  party  played  in  red  caps,  and  the 
other  in  white.  There  was  present  his  Highness 
the  Lord  Protector,  many  of  his  Privy  Council,  and 
diverse  eminent  gentlemen,  to  whose  view  was  pre- 
sented great  agility  of  body,  and  most  neat  and 
exquisite  wrestling,  at  every  meeting  of  one  with 
the  other,  which  was  ordered  with  such  dexterity 
that  it  was  to  show  more  the  strength,  vigour,  and 
nimbleness  of  their  bodies,  than  to  endanger  their 
persons.  The  ball  they  played  withal  was  silver, 
and  designed  for  that  party  which  did  win  the 
goal." 

When  Cromwell,  at  the  close  of  life,  was  suffer- 
ing under  a  painful  disorder,  his  physicians  recom- 
mended him  to  take  as  much  exercise  as  possible, 
and  consequently  we  find  him  frequently  either 
driving  or  riding  in  Hyde  Park.  It  was  not 
unusual  for  him  to  mount  his  own  coach-box,  and 
to  drive  his  six  horses,  surrounded  by  a  regiment 
of  guards.  It  was  on  one  of  these  occasions  that 
an  accident  occurred  which  nearly  cost  him  his 
life.  "The  Duke  of  Holstein,"  says  Ludlow, 
"  made  him  a  present  of  a  set  of  gray  Friesland 
coach-horses,  with  which,  taking  the  air  in  the 
park,  attended  only  with  his  secretary,  Thurloe, 
and  a  guard  of  janizaries,  he  would  needs  take  the 
place  of  the  coachman,  not  doubting  but  the  three 
pair  of  horses  he  was  about  to  drive  would  prove 


THE  GREEN  PARK  AND  HYDE  PARK.  55 

as  tame  as  the  three  nations  which  were  ridden  by 
him  ;  and  therefore,  not  content  with  their  ordi- 
nary pace,  he  lashed  them  very  furiously ;  but  they, 
unaccustomed  to  such  a  rough  driver,  ran  away  in 
a  rage,  and  stopped  not  till  they  had  thrown  him 
out  of  the  box,  with  which  fall  his  pistol  fired  in 
his  pocket,  though  without  any  hurt  to  himself, 
by  which  he  might  have  been  instructed  how  dan- 
gerous it  was  to  meddle  with  those  things  wherein 
he  had  no  experience."  Heath  repeats  the  story 
in  his  "Flagellam,"  and  also  places  the  scene  in 
Hyde  Park.  "  The  generous  horses,"  he  says,  "  no 
sooner  heard  the  lash  of  the  whip,  but  away  they 
ran,  with  Thurloe  sitting  trembling  inside,  for  fear 
of  his  own  neck,  over  hill  and  dale,  and  at  last 
threw  down  the  unexpert  governor  from  the  box 
into  the  traces."  In  his  fall,  it  seems,  the  Pro- 
tector's legs  became  entangled  in  the  harness,  and 
for  several  seconds  he  remained  suspended  from 
the  pole  of  the  carriage.  Thurloe,  in  great  trepida- 
tion, threw  himself  from  the  door  of  the  vehicle, 
and  escaped  with  some  slight  bruises.  Heath  else- 
where likens  Cromwell  and  Thurloe  to  Mephis- 
topheles  and  Doctor  Faustus.  "  Cromwell,"  he 
says,  "like  Phaeton,  fell  from  his  chariot."  Many 
pasquinades  were  of  course  written  on  the  sub- 
ject, of  one  of  which  the  following  concluding 
verse  is  not  without  merit : 

"  Every  day  and  hour  has  shown  us  his  power, 
And  now  he  has  shown  us  his  art ; 


56  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

His  first  reproach  was  a  fall  from  a  coach, 
And  his  next  will  be  from  a  cart." 

We  must  not  omit  to  mention  that  it  was  at 
Hyde  Park  Gate  (the  hinges  of  which  they  filed 
off  in  order  to  secure  their  escape)  that  Synder- 
combe  and  Cecil  more  than  once  lay  in  wait,  in 
hopes  of  finding  an  opportunity  of  assassinating 
the  great  Protector  in  one  of  his  rides  in  the 
park. 

In  the  pages  of  Pepys  and  Evelyn  we  find  some 
interesting  notices  of  the  gay  scene  presented  by 
Hyde  Park  in  the  reign  of  Charles  the  Second. 
The  former  writes,  on  the  3Oth  of  April,  1661  : 
"  I  am  sorry  I  am  not  at  London  to  be  at  Hyde 
Park  to-morrow  morning  among  the  great  gallants 
and  ladies,  which  will  be  very  fine."  Evelyn  was 
more  fortunate,  and  on  the  following  day  thus 
notices  the  lively  scene:  "May  ist,  I  went  to 
Hyde  Park  to  take  the  air,  where  was  his  Majesty 
and  an  innumerable  appearance  of  gallants  and  rich 
coaches,  being  now  at  a  time  of  universal  festivity 
and  joy."  The  following  year  we  find  Pepys  him- 
self among  the  gay  equestrians  in  the  park.  "  1662, 
December  i8th,  in  St.  James's  Park  Mr.  Coven- 
try's people  had  a  horse  ready  for  me,  so  fine  a 
one  that  I  was  almost  afraid  to  get  upon  him,  but 
I  did,  and  found  myself  more  feared  than  hurt, 
and  followed  the  duke  and  some  of  his  people  to 
Hyde  Park."  Again  Pepys  writes  on  the  8th  of 
April,  1663  :  "  After  dinner  to  the  Hyde  Park ;  at 


THE  GREEN  PARK  AND  HYDE  PARK.  57 

the  park  was  the  king,  and  in  another  coach  my 
Lady  Castlemaine,  they  greeting  one  another  at 
every  turn." 

In  Colley  Gibber's  "Apology  for  His  Life," 
there  is  a  passage  connected  with  Hyde  Park 
which  throws  a  curious  light  on  the  manners  of 
the  time.  Speaking  of  Kynaston,  the  actor,  he 
says  :  "  He  was  at  that  time  so  beautiful  a  youth, 
that  the  ladies  of  quality  prided  themselves  in 
taking  him  with  them  in  their  coaches  to  Hyde 
Park,  in  his  theatrical  habit,  after  the  play ;  which, 
in  those  days,  they  might  have  sufficient  time  to 
do,  because  plays  were  then  used  to  begin  at  four 
o'clock,  the  hour  that  people  of  the  same  rank 
are  now  going  to  dinner." 

We  will  conclude  our  notices  of  Hyde  Park  in 
the  reign  of  Charles  the  Second,  with  an  account 
of  a  military  review,  at  which  Evelyn  was  present. 
He  writes  in  July,  1664:  "I  saw  his  Majesty's 
guards,  being  of  horse  and  foot  four  thousand,  led 
by  the  general  the  Duke  of  Albemarle  in  extraor- 
dinary equipage  and  gallantry,  consisting  of  gen- 
tlemen of  quality  and  veteran  soldiers,  excellently 
clad,  marched,  and  ordered,  drawn  up  in  battalia 
before  their  Majesties  in  Hyde  Park,  where  the 
old  Earl  of  Cleveland  trailed  a  pike,  and  led  the 
right-hand  file  commanded  by  the  Viscount  Went- 
worth,  his  son,  a  worthy  spectacle  and  example, 
being  both  of  them  old  and  valiant  soldiers.  This 
was  to  show  the  French  ambassador,  M.  Com- 


58  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

minges,  there  being  a  great  assembly  of  coaches, 
etc.,  in  the  park."  The  gossiping  Pepys  was 
present  in  Hyde  Park  on  the  occasion.  "  It  was 
a  goodly  sight,"  he  says,  "to  see  so  many  fine 
horses  and  officers,  and  the  king,  duke,  and  others, 
come  by  on  horseback,  and  the  two  queens  in  the 
queen-mother's  coach ;  my  Lady  Castlemaine  not 
being  there.  And  after  long  being  there,  I  alighted, 
and  walked  to  the  place  where  the  king,  duke,  etc., 
did  stand,  to  see  the  horse  and  foot  march  by  and 
discharge  their  guns,  to  show  a  French  marquis, 
for  whom  this  muster  was  caused,  the  goodness  of 
our  firemen,  which,  indeed,  was  very  good,  though 
not  without  a  slip  now  and  then,  and  one  broad- 
side close  to  our  coach,  as  we  were  going  out  of 
the  park,  even  to  the  nearness  to  be  ready  to  burn 
our  hairs.  Yet  methought  all  these  gay  men  are 
not  the  soldiers  that  must  do  the  king's  business, 
it  being  such  as  these  that  lost  the  old  king  all  he 
had,  and  were  beat  by  the  most  ordinary  fellows 
that  could  be." 

In  reference  to  the  mere  fashionable  history  of 
Hyde  Park  from  the  days  of  Oliver  Cromwell  to 
our  own  time,  we  must  not  forget  to  mention  that 
the  spot  designated  by  our  ancestors  par  excellence 
as  Hyde  Park  —  the  spot  where  Charles  the  Sec- 
ond exchanged  amorous  glances  with  the  haughty 
Castlemaine,  and  where  the  young,  the  witty,  the 
titled,  and  the  beautiful  greeted  each  other  from 
their  equipages  or  on  horseback,  for  more  than 


THE  GREEN  PARK  AND  HYDE  PARK.  59 

two  centuries  —  was  confined  to  the  famous 
"  Ring,"  to  which  we  have  already  made  allu- 
sion. When  we  read  in  Evelyn  of  a  "  coach-race 
in  Hyde  Park,"  or,  in  Pepys,  of  a  "  fine  foot-race, 
three  times  around  the  park,  between  an  Irishman 
and  Crow,  that  was  once  my  Lord  Claypole's  foot- 
man," it  was  evidently  "  the  Ring  "  which  was  the 
scene  of  their  contests.  "  Hyde  Park,"  says  Pen- 
nant, "  was  in  the  last  century,  and  the  early  part 
of  the  present,  celebrated  by  all  our  dramatic  poets, 
for  its  large  space  railed  off  in  form  of  a  circle, 
around  which  the  beau  monde  drove  in  their  car- 
riages ;  and,  in  their  rotation,  exchanged,  as  they 
passed,  smiles  and  nods,  compliments  or  smart 
repartees." 

In  passing  along  the  banks  of  the  Serpentine 
from  Hyde  Park  Corner  to  Kensington  Gardens, 
if,  on  reaching  the  receiving  house  of  the  Humane 
Society,  we  turn  immediately  to  the  right,  and  skirt 
the  palings  of  the  lodge  or  Farm  House,  it  will  lead 
us  to  the  site  of  the  celebrated  "  Ring,"  which 
was  situated  in  the  centre  of  the  park,  between 
the  Farm  House  and  Dorchester  House,  in  Park 
Lane,  though  considerably  nearer  to  the  former. 
Pope  writes,  in  his  essay  on  "  The  Characters  of 
Women  : " 

"  Ah  !  friend !  to  dazzle  let  the  vain  design ; 
To  raise  the  thought,  and  touch  the  heart,  be  thine ! 
That  charm  shall  grow,  while  what  fatigues  the  Ring, 
Flaunts  and  goes  down,  an  unregarded  thing." 


60  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

And  again,  in  the  same  inimitable  poem  : 

"  Rufa,  whose  eye,  quick-glancing  o'er  the  park, 
Attracts  each  light  gay  meteor  of  a  spark." 

Between  the  Farm  House  (the  Cake  House,  or 
Mince-pie  House,  as  it  was  called  in  the  reign  of 
Queen  Anne)  and  the  Ring  was  fought,  on  the 
1 5th  of  November,  1712,  the  celebrated  and  san- 
guinary duel  between  Charles,  Lord  Mohun,  and 
James,  fourth  Duke  of  Hamilton.  They  had 
married  two  nieces  of  Charles  Gerrard,  Earl  of 
Macclesfield  ;  and  a  dispute  having  taken  place  be- 
tween them  respecting  the  disposal  of  the  Gerrard 
estates,  they  chanced  to  meet  at  an  examination 
before  a  master  in  Chancery,  when  high  and 
angry  words  arose,  and  the  following  day  Lord 
Mohun  sent  his  friend,  General  Macartney,  to 
the  duke,  challenging  him  to  a  sword  duel  in 
Hyde  Park.  It  may  be  mentioned  that,  many 
years  before,  Lord  Mohun,  when  in  company  with 
the  Earl  of  Warwick  and  another  friend,  had  been 
engaged  in  a  midnight  brawl  in  the  streets  with 
three  persons,  probably  as  intoxicated  and  riotous 
as  himself,  when  swords  were  drawn,  and  one 
Captain  Richard  Coote  was  killed.  Warwick  and 
Mohun  were  tried  by  their  peers,  when  the  former 
was  convicted  of  manslaughter,  and  the  latter  was 
acquitted.  Some  years  later,  having  conceived  a 
passion  for  Mrs.  Bracegirdle,  the  celebrated  ac- 
tress, who  was  supposed  to  be  on  the  point  of 


THE  GREEN  PARK  AND  HYDE  PARK.  6 1 

marriage  with  Montfort,  the  no  less  celebrated 
actor,  he  instigated,  it  is  said,  one  Captain  Rich- 
ard Hill,  to  assassinate  Montfort  as  he  was  passing 
along  the  Strand ;  if  I  remember  right,  at  the  cor- 
ner of  Norfolk  Street.  For  this  second  murder 
he  was  again  tried  by  his  peers,  but  had  again  the 
good  fortune  to  be  acquitted. 

The  third  catastrophe  in  which  Lord  Mohun 
was  concerned  was  his  famous  duel  with  the  Duke 
of  Hamilton,  but  on  this  occasion  he  was  destined 
to  be  tried  by  a  far  higher  tribunal  than  that 
which  had  absolved  him  on  the  two  previous  occa- 
sions. At  the  meeting  in  Hyde  Park,  Lord 
Mohun  came  attended  by  General  Macartney,  and 
the  Duke  of  Hamilton  by  Colonel  Hamilton.  On 
the  ground,  the  duke  taunting  Macartney  with 
being  the  cause  of  the  duel,  the  latter  expressed 
his  perfect  readiness  to  join  in  the  conflict,  to  which 
the  duke,  pointing  to  Colonel  Hamilton,  observed  : 
"  There  is  my  friend  ;  he  will  take  his  share  in  my 
dance."  Both  principals  and  seconds  then  drew 
their  swords  and  engaged  at  the  same  moment. 
Lord  Mohun  almost  immediately  received  a  fatal 
wound,  and  died  on  the  spot ;  the  duke  also  re- 
ceived his  death-wound,  but,  according  to  the 
evidence  of  Colonel  Hamilton,  it  was  General 
Macartney  who  gave  him  the  fatal  stab. 

Swift  writes  to  Stella  on  the  day  of  the  duel : 
"Before  this  comes  to  your  hands  you  will  have 
heard  of  the  most  terrible  accident  that  hath 


62  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

almost  ever  happened.  This  morning  at  eight, 
my  man  brought  me  word  that  Duke  Hamilton 
had  fought  with  Lord  Mohun,  and  killed  him,  and 
was  brought  home  wounded.  I  immediately  sent 
him  to  the  duke's  house,  in  St.  James's  Square ; 
but  the  porter  could  hardly  answer  for  tears,  and 
a  great  rabble  was  about  the  house.  In  short, 
they  fought  at  seven  this  morning.  The  dog 
Mohun  was  killed  on  the  spot ;  and,  while  the 
duke  was  over  him,  Mohun  shortened  his  sword, 
and  stabbed  him  in  the  shoulder  to  the  heart. 
The  duke  was  helped  toward  the  Cake  House,  by 
the  Ring  in  Hyde  Park,  where  they  fought,  and 
died  on  the  grass,  before  he  could  reach  the 
house  ;  and  was  brought  home  in  his  coach  by 
eight,  while  the  poor  duchess  was  asleep.  Mac- 
artney and  one  Hamilton  were  the  seconds,  who 
fought  likewise,  and  are  both  fled.  I  am  told 
that  a  footman  of  Lord  Mohun's  stabbed  Duke 
Hamilton,  and  some  say  Macartney  did  so  too. 
Mohun  gave  the  affront,  and  yet  sent  the  chal- 
lenge. I  am  infinitely  concerned  for  the  poor 
duke,  who  was  a  frank,  honest,  good-natured  man. 
I  loved  him  very  well,  and  I  think  he  loved  me 
better."  A  short  time  afterward,  Colonel  Hamil- 
ton, the  duke's  second,  was  tried  at  the  Old  Bailey, 
and  acquitted.  General  Macartney  surrendered 
himself  to  take  his  trial  the  following  year,  when 
Hamilton  swore  positively  that  he  was  the  person 
who  gave  the  duke  his  fatal  wound.  The  jury, 


THE  GREEN  PARK  AND  HYDE  PARK.  63 

however,  seem  to  have  placed  but  little  faith  in  his 
evidence,  for  Macartney  was  merely  found  guilty 
of  manslaughter,  and  Colonel  Hamilton,  to  avoid 
a  prosecution  for  perjury,  fled  to  the  Continent, 
where  he  died  within  four  months.  General  Mac- 
artney survived  till  1730. 

The  retired  spot  of  ground,  between  the  Ring 
and  the  Serpentine,  on  which  the  Duke  of  Hamil- 
ton and  Lord  Mohun  lost  their  lives,  is  that  appar- 
ently which  Fielding,  in  his  inimitable  novel  of 
"Amelia,"  mentions  as  the  usual  meeting-place 
of  the  duellists  of  the  last  century,  and  where 
probably  many  a  life  has  been  lost.  It  is  here 
that  Fielding  fixes  the  encounter  between  his  hero 
Booth  and  the  fiery  Colonel  Bath.  Having  quar- 
relled on  the  fashionable  Mall  in  St.  James's  Park, 
the  combatants,  unaccompanied  by  seconds,  and 
with  no  weapons  but  the  sword  which  every  gen- 
tleman wore  at  the  period,  proceeded  forthwith 
to  the  secluded  spot  which  we  have  mentioned. 
"  The  colonel  bade  Booth  come  along,  and  strutted 
forward  directly  up  Constitution  Hill,  to  Hyde 
Park,  Booth  following  him  at  first,  and  afterward 
walking  before  him,  till  they  came  to  that  place 
which  may  be  properly  called  the  field  of  blood, 
being  that  part,  a  little  to  the  left  of  the  Ring, 
which  heroes  have  chosen  for  the  scene  of  their 
exit  out  of  this  world." 

We  must  not  omit  to  mention  that  it  was  in 
Hyde  Park  that  Wilkes  fought  his  memorable 


64  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

duel  with  Mr.  Martin,  in  which  he  received  the 
wound  from  a  pistol-ball  which  so  nearly  cost  him 
his  life. 

In  Swift's  journal  to  Stella  we  find  another 
interesting  passage  connected  with  Hyde  Park. 
On  the  25th  of  February,  1712,  he  writes:  "I 
was  this  morning  again  with  the  secretary  [Lord 
Bolingbroke]  and  we  were  two  hours  busy ;  and 
then  went  to  the  Park,  —  Hyde  Park  I  mean  ;  and 
he  walked  to  cure  his  cold,  and  we  were  looking 
at  two  Arabian  horses,  sent  some  time  ago  to  the 
lord  treasurer.  The  Duke  of  Marlborough's  coach 
overtook  us,  with  his  Grace  and  Lord  Godolphin 
in  it ;  but  they  did  not  see  us,  to  our  great  satis- 
faction ;  for  neither  of  us  desired  that  either  of 
those  two  lords  should  see  us  together.  There 
were  half  a  dozen  ladies  riding  like  cavaliers  to 
take  the  air."  The  lord  treasurer,  here  mentioned, 
was  Lord  Godolphin,  and  it  is  not  improbable  that 
one  of  the  two  Arabian  horses  which  Swift  refers 
to  was  the  famous  Godolphin  Arabian. 

Let  us  pass  from  the  time  of  Swift  and  Boling- 
broke to  that  of  Horace  Walpole ;  those  days 
when  the  lonely  situation  of  Hyde  Park  rendered 
it  still  the  frequent  scene  of  highway  robbery  and 
murder.  Horace  Walpole  writes  to  Sir  Horace 
Mann  on  the  1 7th  of  November,  1 749  :  "  Gib- 
berne  says  you  will  be  frightened  at  a  lamentable 
history  that  you  will  read  of  me  in  the  newspapers ; 
but  pray  don't  be  frightened  :  the  danger,  great  as 


THE  GREEN  PARK  AND  HYDE  PARK.  65 

it  was,  was  over  before  I  had  any  notion  of  it ;  and 
the  hurt  did  not  deserve  mentioning."  Walpole, 
it  seems,  was  passing  through  Hyde  Park,  when 
he  was  stopped  by  one  M'Lean,  a  highwayman  of 
formidable  reputation,  whose  pistol,  accidentally 
going  off,  not  only  stunned  him,  but  grazed  the 
skin  from  his  cheek-bone. 

In  a  letter  to  Sir  Horace  Mann,  dated  the  2d 
of  August,  1/50,  Walpole  thus  relates  the  cap- 
ture of  the  dreaded  M'Lean  :  "  I  have  been  in 
town  for  a  day  or  two,  and  heard  no  conversation 
but  about  M'Lean,  a  fashionable  highwayman,  who 
is  just  taken,  and  who  robbed  me  among  others. 
He  was  taken  by  selling  a  laced  waistcoat  to  a 
pawnbroker,  who  happened  to  carry  it  to  the  very 
man  who  had  just  sold  the  lace.  His  history  is 
very  particular,  for  he  confesses  everything,  and 
is  so  little  of  a  hero  that  he  cries.  His  father  was 
an  Irish  dean ;  his  brother  is  a  Calvinist  minister, 
in  great  esteem  at  The  Hague.  He  himself  was  a 
grocer,  but  losing  a  wife  that  he  loved  extremely, 
about  two  years  ago,  and  by  whom  he  has  one 
little  girl,  he  quitted  his  business  with  two  hundred 
pounds  in  his  pocket,  which  he  soon  spent,  and 
then  took  to  the  road  with  only  one  compan- 
ion, Plunket,  a  journeyman  apothecary,  my  other 
friend,  whom  he  has  impeached,  but  who  is  not 
taken.  M'Lean  had  a  lodging  in  St.  James's 
Street,  over  against  White's,  and  another  at  Chel- 
sea ;  Plunket  one  in  Jermyn  Street ;  and  their 


66  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

faces  are  as  known  about  St.  James's  as  any 
gentleman's  who  lives  in  that  quarter,  and  who, 
perhaps,  goes  upon  the  road  too.  M'Lean  had  a 
quarrel  at  Putney  bowling-green,  two  months  ago, 
with  an  officer,  whom  he  challenged  for  disputing 
his  rank;  but  the  captain  declined  till  M'Lean 
should  produce  a  certificate  of  his  nobility,  which 
he  has  just  received.  There  was  a  wardrobe  of 
clothes,  and  three  and  twenty  purses  found  at 
his  lodgings,  besides  a  famous  kept  mistress.  As 
I  conclude  he  will  suffer,  and  wish  him  no  ill,  I 
don't  care  to  have  his  idea,  and  am  almost  single 
in  not  having  been  to  see  him.  Lord  Mountford, 
at  the  head  of  half  White's,  went  the  first  day ;  his 
aunt  was  crying  over  him ;  as  soon  as  they 
were  withdrawn,  she  said  to  him,  knowing  they 
were  of  White's,  '  My  dear,  what  did  the  lords 
say  to  you  ?  Have  you  ever  been  concerned 
with  any  of  them  ? '  Was  not  it  admirable ! 
What  a  favourable  idea  people  must  have  of 
White's ! " 

M'Lean  was  hanged  in  October  following.  Wai- 
pole  writes  to  Sir  Horace  Mann  on  the  i8th: 
"  Robbing  is  the  only  thing  that  goes  on  with  any 
vivacity,  though  my  friend  Mr.  M'Lean  is  hanged. 
The  first  Sunday  after  his  condemnation,  three 
thousand  people  went  to  see  him ;  he  fainted  away 
twice  with  the  heat  of  his  cell.  You  can't  con- 
ceive the  ridiculous  rage  there  is  of  going  to  New- 
gate ;  and  the  prints  that  are  published  of  the 


THE  GREEN  PARK  AND  HYDE  PARK.     67 

malefactors,  and  the  memoirs  of  their  lives  and 
death  set  forth  with  as  much  parade  as  Marshal 
Turenne's." 

M'Lean,  as  we  have  already  mentioned,  was 
hanged  in  October,  1750,  and,  a  little  more  than 
a  year  afterward,  we  find  his  place  occupied  by 
'one  William  Belchier,  another  fashionable  high- 
wayman, who  robbed  in  Hyde  Park  and  its  lonely 
vicinity.  The  evidence  given  at  Belchier's  trial, 
by  one  William  Norton,  a  thief  catcher,  is  not  a 
little  curious.  "The  chaise  to  the  Devizes,"  he 
says,  "  having  been  robbed  two  or  three  times,  as 
I  was  informed,  I  was  desired  to  go  in  it,  to  see 
if  I  could  take  the  thief,  which  I  did  on  the  3d  of 
June,  about  half  an  hour  after  one  in  the  morning. 
I  got  into  the  post-chaise ;  the  post-boy  told  me 
the  place  where  he  had  been  stopped  was  near  the 
half-way  house  between  Knightsbridge  and  Ken- 
sington. As  we  came  near  the  house  the  prisoner 
came  to  us  on  foot  and  said,  '  Driver,  stop  ! '  He 
held  a  pistol  tinder-box  to  the  chaise  and  said, 
'  Your  money  directly ;  you  must  not  stay ;  this 
minute  your  money.'  I  said,  '  Don't  frighten  us  ; 
I  have  but  a  trifle  ;  you  shall  have  it ! '  Then  I 
said  to  the  gentlemen  (there  were  three  in  the 
chaise),  '  Give  your  money.'  I  took  out  a  pistol 
from  my  coat  pocket,  and  from  my  breeches 
pocket  a  five-shilling  piece  and  a  dollar.  I  held 
the  pistol  concealed  in  one  hand,  and  the  money 
in  the  other.  I  held  the  money  pretty  hard.  He 


68  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

said,  « Put  it  in  my  hat.'  I  let  him  take  the  five- 
shilling  piece  out  of  my  hand.  As  soon  as  he  had 
taken  it  I  snapped  my  pistol  at  him ;  it  did  not  go 
off.  He  staggered  back,  and  held  up  his  hands, 
and  said,  'Oh,  Lord!  oh,  Lord!'  I  jumped  out 
of  the  chaise ;  he  ran  away,  and  I  after  him  about 
six  or  seven  hundred  yards,  and  then  took  him.  I 
hit  him  a  blow  on  his  back  ;  he  begged  for  mercy 
on  his  knees.  I  took  his  neckcloth  off,  and  tied 
his  hands  with  it,  and  brought  him  back  to  the 
chaise.  Then  I  told  the  gentlemen  in  the  chaise 
that  was  the  errand  I  came  upon,  and  wished 
them  a  good  journey,  and  brought  the  prisoner  to 
London."  When  Norton  was  asked  in  court  by 
the  prisoner  what  trade  he  followed,  "  I  keep  a 
shop,"  he  said,  "  in  Wych  Street,  and  sometimes  I 
take  a  thief." 

Before  we  conclude  our  notices  of  Hyde  Park, 
we  must  not  omit  to  mention  a  mysterious  incident 
which  created  an  extraordinary  sensation  at  the 
period.  The  hero  of  the  tale  was  Charles,  second 
Duke  of  Marlborough,  who  commanded  the  bri- 
gade of  Foot  Guards  at  the  battle  of  Dettingen, 
and  who  held,  at  different  periods,  the  high  ap- 
pointments of  lord  steward  of  the  king's  house- 
hold, keeper  of  the  privy  seal,  and  master-general 
of  the  ordnance.  In  1758,  when  the  English 
government  determined  on  making  a  descent  at 
St.  Malo,  the  Duke  of  Marlborough  was  appointed 
to  the  command  of  the  expedition.  A  few  months 


THE  GREEN  PARK  AND  HYDE  PARK.  69 

before  his  departure,  the  following  extraordinary 
letter  was  thrust  under  the  doorway  of  the 
ordnance  office,  and,  being  addressed  to  the 
duke,  was  delivered  to  him  by  one  of  the  mes- 
sengers : 

•"  To  His  Grace  the  Duke  of  Marlborough,  with  care 
and  speed. 

"  MY  LORD  :  —  As  ceremony  is  an  idle  thing 
upon  most  occasions,  more  especially  to  persons  in 
my  state  of  mind,  I  shall  proceed  immediately  to 
acquaint  you  with  the  motive  and  end  of  address- 
ing this  epistle  to  you,  which  is  equally  interesting 
to  us  both.  You  are  to  know,  then,  that  my 
present  situation  in  life  is  such  that  I  should 
prefer  annihilation  to  a  continuance  in  it ;  des- 
perate diseases  require  desperate  remedies,  and 
you  are  the  man  I  have  pitched  upon,  either  to 
make  me,  or  unmake  yourself.  As  I  had  never  the 
honour  to  live  among  the  great,  the  tenor  of  my 
proposals  will  not  be  very  courtly,  but  let  that  be 
an  argument  to  enforce  the  belief  of  what  I  am 
now  going  to  write.  It  has  employed  my  inven- 
tion for  some  time  to  find  out  a  method  to  destroy 
another,  without  exposing  my  own  life ;  that  I  have 
accomplished,  and  defy  the  law  now  for  the  appli- 
cation of  it.  I  am  desperate,  and  must  be  pro- 
vided for ;  you  have  it  in  your  power,  it  is  my 
business  to  make  it  your  inclination  to  serve  me ; 


70  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

which  you  must  determine  to  comply  with  by  pro- 
curing me  a  genteel  support,  for  my  life,  or  your 
own  will  be  at  a  period  before  this  session  of 
Parliament  is  over.  I  have  more  motives  than 
one  for  singling  you  out  first  upon  this  occasion  ; 
and  I  give  you  this  fair  warning,  because  the 
means  I  shall  make  use  of  are  too  fatal  to  be 
eluded  by  the  power  of  physic.  If  you  think  this 
of  any  consequence  you  will  not  fail  to  meet  me, 
on  Sunday  next,  at  ten  in  the  morning,  or  on 
Monday  (if  the  weather  should  be  rainy  on  Sun- 
day), near  the  first  tree  beyond  the  stile  in  Hyde 
Park,  in  the  foot-walk  to  Kensington.  Secrecy 
and  compliance  may  preserve  you  from  a  double 
danger  of  this  sort,  as  there  is  a  certain  part  of 
the  world,  where  your  death  has  been  more  than 
wished  for,  upon  other  motives.  I  know  the  world 
too  well  to  trust  this  secret  in  any  breast  but  my 
own ;  a  few  days  determine  me  your  friend  or 
enemy.  FELTON. 

"  You  will  apprehend  that  I  mean  you  should  be 
alone,  and  depend  upon  it  that  a  discovery  of  any 
artifice  in  this  affair  will  be  fatal  to  you ;  my 
safety  is  ensured  by  my  silence,  for  confession 
only  can  condemn  me." 

On  the  Sunday  morning,  having  armed  himself 
with  a  pair  of  loaded  pistols,  the  duke  proceeded 
on  horseback  to  the  spot  in  Hyde  Park,  which  was 


THE  GREEN  PARK  AND  HYDE  PARK.  71 

pointed  out  by  his  mysterious  correspondent ;  hav- 
ing previously  taken  the  precaution  of  securing 
the  services  of  a  friend,  who  lay  concealed  within 
a  short  distance.  The  spot  was  in  those  days  a 
retired  one,  and  on  reaching  it  the  duke,  perceiv- 
ing a  person  loitering  about,  rode  up  to  him,  and 
inquired  if  he  had  any  communication  to  make  to 
him.  The  stranger  answered  in  the  negative,  on 
which  the  duke  inquired  whether  he  knew  who 
he  was.  The  man  answering  "no,"  "I  am  the 
Duke  of  Marlborough,"  said  the  duke,  "  and  I 
again  ask  you  if  you  have  any  business  with  me  ? " 
The  mysterious  stranger  again  answering  in  the 
negative,  the  duke  turned  his  horse's  bridle  and 
rode  away. 

It  may  be  readily  imagined  that  the  curiosity, 
if  not  the  fears  of  the  duke,  was  excited  by  this 
strange  adventure,  and  the  receipt  of  a  second 
threatening  epistle,  a  day  or  two  afterward,  could 
scarcely  have  tended  to  allay  either. 

"  To  His  Grace  the  Duke  of  Marlborough. 

"  MY  LORD  :  —  You  receive  this  as  an  acknowl- 
edgment of  your  punctuality  as  to  the  time  and  place 
of  meeting  on  Sunday  last,  though  it  was  owing  to 
you  that  it  answered  no  purpose  ;  the  pageantry 
of  being  armed  and  the  ensign  of  your  order  were 
useless,  and  too  conspicuous.  You  needed  no 
attendant,  the  place  was  not  calculated  for  mis- 


72  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

chief,  nor  was  any  intended.  If  you  walk  in  the 
west  aisle  of  Westminster  Abbey  toward  eleven 
o'clock  on  Sunday  next,  your  sagacity  will  point 
out  the  person,  whom  you  will  address,  by  asking 
his  company  to  take  a  turn  or  two  with  you. 
You  will  not  fail,  on  inquiry,  to  be  acquainted  with 
the  name  and  place  of  abode,  according  to  which 
directions  you  will  please  to  send  two  or  three 
hundred  pound  bank-notes  the  next  day  by  the 
penny-post.  Exert  not  your  curiosity  too  early ; 
it  is  in  your  power  to  make  me  grateful  on  certain 
terms ;  I  have  friends  who  are  faithful,  but  they 
do  not  bark  before  they  bite. 

"  I  am,  etc.,  F ." 

The  duke,  at  the  appointed  hour,  did  not  fail  to 
make  his  appearance  in  the  west  aisle  of  West- 
minster Abbey ;  when,  to  his  surprise,  he  encoun- 
tered the  same  mysterious  person  whom  he  had 
previously  met  in  the  park.  The  duke  immedi- 
ately approached  him,  and  again  inquired  if  he  had 
any  communication  to  make  to  him  ;  but  the 
man  replied,  as  on  the  former  occasion,  in  the 
negative. 

Shortly  afterward  he  received  a  third  letter  : 

"  To  His  Grace  the  Duke  of  Marlborough. 

"  MY  LORD: — I  am  fully  convinced  you  had 
a  companion  on  Sunday.  I  interpret  it  as  owing 


THE  GREEN  PARK  AND  HYDE  PARK.  73 

to  the  weakness  of  human  nature,  but  such  pro- 
ceeding is  far  from  being  ingenuous,  and  may 
produce  bad  effects,  while  it  is  impossible  to 
answer  the  end  proposed.  You  will  see  me  again 
soon,  as  it  were  by  accident,  and  may  easily  find 
where  I  go  to,  in  consequence  of  which,  by  being 
sent  to,  I  shall  wait  on  your  Grace,  but  expect  to 
be  quite  alone,  and  to  converse  in  whispers.  You 
will  likewise  give  your  honour  upon  meeting,  that 
no  part  of  the  conversation  shall  transpire.  These 
and  the  former  terms  complied  with,  ensure  your 
safety ;  my  revenge,  in  case  of  not  compliance,  or 
any  scheme  to  expose  me,  will  be  slower,  but  not 
less  sure,  and  strong  suspicion  the  utmost  that 
can  possibly  ensue  upon  it,  while  the  chances 
would  be  tenfold  against  you.  You  will  possibly 
be  in  doubt  after  the  meeting,  but  it  is  quite  nec- 
essary the  outside  should  be  a  mask  to  the  in. 
The  family  of  the  '  Bloods '  is  not  extinct,  though 
they  are  not  in  my  scheme." 

About  two  months  afterward  the  duke  received 
a  fourth  letter : 

"  MAY  IT  PLEASE  YOUR  GRACE  :  I  have  reason 
to  believe  that  the  son  of  one  Barnard,  a  surveyor, 
in  Abingdon  Buildings,  Westminster,  is  acquainted 
with  some  secrets  that  nearly  concern  your  safety. 
His  father  is  now  out  of  town,  which  will  give  you 
an  opportunity  of  questioning  him  more  privately ; 


74  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

it  would  be  useless  to  your  Grace,  as  well  as  dan- 
gerous to  me,  to  appear  more  publicly  in  this 
affair.  Your  sincere  friend, 

"  ANONYMOUS. 

"He  frequently  goes  to  Storey's  Gate  Coffee- 
house." 

On  the  receipt  of  this  letter,  the  duke  despatched 
a  person,  in  whom  he  could  confide,  to  the  coffee- 
house at  Storey's  Gate,  who,  having  easily  ob- 
tained an  interview  with  Barnard,  persuaded  him 
to  accompany  him  to  Marlborough  House.  The 
duke  immediately  recognised  him  as  the  person 
whom  he  had  encountered  both  in  Hyde  Park  and 
in  Westminster  Abbey.  Barnard,  however,  posi- 
tively denied  having  been  the  author  of  the  three 
threatening  letters ;  and  as  to  the  fourth,  he  said 
the  writer  must  be  out  of  his  senses.  The  duke 
then  told  him  that  as  he  himself  was  principally 
concerned  in  the  transaction,  it  was  his  duty  to 
assist  in  discovering  the  writer.  To  this  Barnard 
only  answered  with  a  smile,  and,  with  the  duke's 
permission,  took  his  leave. 

Immediately  after  his  departure  Barnard  was 
arrested  by  a  warrant  from  Sir  John  Fielding,  the 
celebrated  justice  of  the  peace  for  Westminster, 
who,  we  are  told,  proceeded  "at  twelve  at  night 
to  the  New  Prison  to  search  his  pockets."  Bar- 
nard delivered  up  his  keys  and  pocketbook  with 


THE  GREEN  PARK  AND  HYDE  PARK.  75 

great  readiness ;  and,  in  the  search  which  was 
made  over  his  house  and  premises,  nothing  what- 
ever was  found  to  implicate  him  in  the  recent 
unaccountable  transaction. 

In  due  time  he  was  brought  to  trial  at  the  Old 
Bailey.  The  letters  addressed  to  the  Duke  of 
Marlborough  were  produced  in  court,  but  they 
were  proved  to  bear  not  the  slightest  resemblance 
to  the  handwriting  of  the  accused.  It  was  shown, 
moreover,  that  he  was  a  person  in  affluent  circum- 
stances ;  that  he  could  have  no  object  whatever  in 
extorting  money ;  and  that  he  was  a  gentleman  of 
unspotted  character,  and  eminent  in  his  profes- 
sion of  a  surveyor.  The  duke's  evidence  might 
have  been  supposed  to  have  proved  fatal  to  him  ; 
but,  even  on  this  point,  evidence  was  brought 
forward  that  he  had  occasion  to  be  in  Hyde  Park 
on  the  morning  on  which  he  was  encountered  by 
the  duke ;  and  that  his  being  in  the  abbey,  on 
the  occasion  of  the  second  singular  rencontre, 
was  purely  accidental.  It  was  further  proved 
that  Barnard  had  mentioned  these  interviews 
with  the  duke  to  several  persons,  as  singular 
incidents  for  which  he  could  in  no  manner  ac- 
count. 

The  whole  affair  at  the  time  appears  to  have 
been  generally  regarded  as  a  "detestable  plot." 
We  are  rather  inclined,  however,  to  believe  that 
it  was  a  clever  practical  joke,  played  by  Mr.  Bar- 
nard and  his  friends,  one  of  whom  seems  to  have 


76  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

proved  a  traitor  in  the  camp,  and  to  have  parried 
back  the  jest  on  the  principal  accomplice,  without 
imagining,  perhaps,  that  it  would  lead  to  a  serious 
trial  at  the  Old  Bailey. 


CHAPTER  III. 

MAYFAIR,    GROSVENOR,    PORTMAN,    CAVENDISH, 
AND    HANOVER    SQUARES. 

Mayfair  —  Mayfair  Chapel  —  Singular  Marriages  —  Curzon 
Street  —  South  Audley  Street  —  Grosvenor  Square  —  Port- 
man  Square  —  Cavendish  Square  —  Hanover  Square  —  Bond 
Street  —  Berkeley  Square. 

MAYFAIR,  the  site  of  which  was  anciently 
known  as  Brook  Fields,  derives  its  name,  it  is 
almost  needless  to  remark,  from  the  celebrated 
fair  which  was  held  in  its  green  meadows  from 
the  reign  of  Henry  the  Eighth  till  the  middle 
of  the  last  century.  "  Mayfair,"  says  Pennant, 
"  was  kept  about  the  spot  now  covered  with  May- 
fair  Chapel,  and  several  fine  streets.  The  fair 
was  attended  with  such  disorders,  riots,  thefts, 
and  even  murders,  that,  in  1700,  it  was  pre- 
vented by  the  magistrates,  but  revived  again,  and 
I  remember  the  last  celebrations.  The  place  was 
covered  with  booths,  temporary  theatres,  and 
every  enticement  to  low  pleasure." 

Malcolm,  in  his  "  Anecdotes  of  the  Manners 
and  Customs  of  London,"  quotes  an  advertise- 
ment which  appeared  in  the  London  journals  of 

77 


78  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

the  27th  of  April,  1700,  which  affords  us  a 
curious  picture  of  this  memorable  fair.  "  In 
Brookfield  market-place,  at  the  east  corner  of 
Hyde  Park,  is  a  fair  to  be  kept  for  the  space 
of  sixteen  days,  beginning  with  the  ist  of  May; 
the  first  three  days  for  live  cattle  and  leather, 
with  the  same  entertainments  as  at  Bartholomew 
Fair,  where  there  are  shops  to  be  let  ready  built 
for  all  manner  of  tradesmen  that  usually  keep 
fairs,  and  so  to  continue  yearly  at  the  same 
place."  As  mentioned  by  Pennant,  the  disgrace- 
ful scenes  of  outrage,  riot,  and  profligacy,  which 
were  annually  to  be  witnessed  at  Mayfair,  led, 
in  1700,  to  its  temporary  suppression.  In  the 
Tatler  of  the  24th  of  May,  1708,  we  find: 
"The  downfall  of  Mayfair  has  sunk  the  price 
of  this  noble  creature  [the  elephant]  as  well  as  of 
many  other  curiosities  of  nature.  A  tiger  will 
sell  almost  as  cheap  as  an  ox ;  and  I  am  credibly 
informed  a  man  may  purchase  a  calf  with  three 
legs  for  very  nearly  the  value  of  one  with  four. 
I  hear  likewise  that  there  is  great  desolation 
among  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  who  were  the 
ornaments  of  the  town,  and  used  to  shine  in 
plumes  and  diadems,  the  heroes  being  most  of 
them  pressed,  and  the  queens  beating  hemp." 
Mayfair,  however,  was  again  revived.  Notwith- 
standing that  a  part  of  the  ground  was  built  over 
as  early  as  1721,  we  find  a  donkey-race  attract- 
ing great  crowds  to  the  fair  in  1736,  and  as  late 


MAYFAIR.  79 

as  1756  it  is  still  mentioned  in  Maitland's  "Anec- 
dotes "  as  being  annually  celebrated. 

Not  the  least  remarkable  feature  connected 
with  old  Mayfair  was  the  celebrated  chapel,  pre- 
sided over  by  one  Keith,  where  any  two  per- 
sons might  be  married  at  a  moment's  notice ;  the 
law,  in  the  middle  of  the  last  century,  requiring 
neither  public  notice,  the  consent  of  guardians, 
nor,  indeed,  any  other  formality  than  the  mutual 
agreement  of  the  consenting  parties.  Keith's  lit- 
tle chapel  stood  within  a  few  yards  of  the  present 
chapel  in  Curzon  Street ;  indeed,  an  extract  from 
one  of  his  own  remarkable  advertisements  points 
out  the  exact  spot :  "  To  prevent  mistakes,  the 
little  new  chapel  in  Mayfair,  near  Hyde  Park 
Corner,  is  in  the  corner  house  opposite  to  the 
city  side  of  the  great  chapel,  and  within  ten 
yards  of  it.  The  minister  and  clerk  live  in  the 
same  corner  house  where  the  little  chapel  is ; 
and  the  license  on  a  crown  stamp,  minister  and 
clerk's  fees,  together  with  the  certificate,  amount 
to  one  guinea,  as  heretofore,  at  any  hour  till  four 
in  the  afternoon.  And  that  it  may  be  better 
known,  there  is  a  porch  at  the  door  like  a  coun- 
try church  porch." 

When,  in  consequence  of  the  profligate  manner 
in  which  he  prostituted  his  sacred  vocation,  Keith 
was  subsequently  excommunicated  for  "  contempt 
of  the  Holy  and  Mother  Church,"  he  had  the 
cool  impudence  to  retort  on  Bishop  Gibson,  the 


80  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

judge  of  the  ecclesiastical  court,  whom  he  for- 
mally excommunicated  in  his  chapel.  The  conse- 
quence was  that  he  was  committed  to  prison, 
where  he  continued  for  some  years,  leaving  his 
duties  to  be  performed  by  his  curates,  who  were 
apparently  his  shopmen.  At  length,  in  1744,  the 
act  for  preventing  clandestine  marriages  came 
into  agitation,  against  which  he  had  the  impu- 
dence to  issue  a  formal  manifesto  from  his  prison. 
Speaking  of  the  hardship  which  he  insists  it  would 
entail  on  the  lower  orders  of  society,  he  writes : 
"  Another  inconveniency  which  will  arise  from 
this  act  will  be  that  the  expense  of  being  married 
will  be  so  great  that  few  of  the  lower  classes  of 
people  can  afford  it ;  for  I  have  often  heard  a 
Fleet  parson  say  that  many  have  come  to  be 
married  when  they  have  had  but  half  a  crown  in 
their  pockets,  and  sixpence  to  buy  a  pot  of  beer, 
and  for  which  they  have  pawned  some  of  their 
clothes." 

The  walls  of  the  little  chapel  in  Curzon  Street 
might  have  told  strange  tales  of  love,  folly,  and 
romance.  Among  other  singular  marriages,  it 
witnessed  that  of  the  beautiful  Elizabeth  Gunning 
to  James,  Duke  of  Hamilton.  Horace  Walpole 
writes  to  Sir  Horace  Mann  on  the  2/th  of  Febru- 
ary, 1752  :  "The  event  that  has  made  most  noise 
since  my  last,  is  the  extempore  wedding  of  the 
youngest  of  the  two  Gunnings,  who  have  made 
so  vehement  a  noise.  Lord  Coventry,  a  grave 


MAYFAIR.  8 1 

young  lord,  of  the  remains  of  the  patriot  breed, 
has  long  dangled  after  the  eldest,  virtuously  with 
regard  to  her  honour,  not  very  honourably  with 
regard  to  his  own  credit.  About  six  weeks  ago, 
Duke  Hamilton,  the  very  reverse  of  the  earl,  hot, 
debauched,  extravagant,  and  equally  damaged  in 
his  fortune  and  person,  fell  in  love  with  the 
youngest  at  the  masquerade,  and  determined  to 
marry  her  in  the  spring.  About  a  fortnight  since, 
at  an  immense  assembly  at  my  Lord  Chester- 
field's, made  to  show  the  house,  Duke  Hamilton 
made  violent  love  at  one  end  of  the  room,  while 
he  was  playing  at  pharaoh  at  the  other  end  ;  that 
is,  he  saw  neither  the  bank  nor  his  own  cards, 
which  were  of  three  hundred  pounds  each  :  he 
soon  lost  a  thousand.  I  own  I  was  so  little  a 
professor  in  love,  that  I  thought  all  this  parade 
looked  ill  for  the  poor  girl ;  and  could  not  con- 
ceive, if  he  was  so  much  engaged  with  his  mis- 
tress as  not  to  regard  such  sums,  why  he  played 
at  all.  However,  two  nights  afterward,  being  left 
alone  with  her,  while  her  mother  and  sister  were 
at  Bedford  House,  he  found  himself  so  impatient 
that  he  sent  for  a  parson.  The  doctor  refused  to 
perform  the  ceremony  without  license  or  ring ; 
the  duke  swore  he  would  send  for  the  arch- 
bishop ;  at  last  they  were  married  with  a  ring  of 
the  bed-curtain,  at  half  an  hour  after  twelve 
at  night,  at  Mayfair  Chapel.  The  Scotch  are 
enraged  ;  the  women  mad  that  so  much  beauty 


82  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

has  had  its  effect ;  and,  what  is  more  silly,  my 
Lord  Coventry  declares  that  now  he  will  marry 
the  other." 

Scarcely  less  remarkable  is  a  marriage  which 
Horace  Walpole  mentions  in  a  letter  to  George 
Montagu,  of  the  3d  of  September,  1748  :  "Did 
you  know  a  young  fellow  that  was  called  hand- 
some Tracy  ?  He  was  walking  in  the  park  with 
some  of  his  acquaintance,  and  overtook  three  girls  ; 
one  was  very  pretty ;  they  followed  them,  but 
the  girls  ran  away,  and  the  company  grew  tired 
of  pursuing  them,  all  but  Tracy.  He  followed 
them  to  Whitehall  Gate,  where  he  gave  a  porter 
a  crown  to  dog  them  ;  the  porter  hunted  them,  he 
the  porter.  The  girls  ran  all  around  Westminster 
and  back  to  the  Haymarket,  where  the  porter 
came  up  with  them.  He  told  the  pretty  one  she 
must  go  with  him,  and  kept  her  talking  till  Tracy 
arrived  quite  out  of  breath,  and  exceedingly  in 
love.  He  insisted  on  knowing  where  she  lived, 
which  she  refused  to  tell  him ;  and  after  much 
disputing,  went  to  the  house  of  one  of  her  com- 
panions, and  Tracy  with  them.  He  there  made 
her  discover  her  family,  a  butterwoman  in  Craven 
Street,  and  engaged  her  to  meet  him  the  next 
morning  in  the  park ;  but  before  night  he  wrote 
her  four  love-letters,  and  in  the  last  offered  two 
hundred  pounds  a  year  to  her,  and  a  hundred  a 
year  to  Signora  la  Madre.  Griselda  made  a  con- 
fidence to  a  staymaker's  wife,  who  told  her  that 


MAYFAIR.  83 

the  swain  was  certainly  in  love  enough  to  marry 
her  if  she  could  determine  to  be  virtuous  and 
refuse  his  offers.  « Ay,'  says  she,  '  but  if  I  should, 
and  should  lose  him  by  it.'  However,  the  measures 
of  the  cabinet  council  were  decided  for  virtue ; 
and  when  she  met  Tracy  the  next  morning  in  the 
park,  she  was  convoyed  by  her  sister  and  brother- 
in-law,  and  stuck  close  to  the  letter  of  her  reputa- 
tion. She  would  do  nothing,  she  would  go  nowhere. 
At  last,  as  an  instance  of  prodigious  compliance, 
she  told  him  that  if  he  would  accept  such  a  dinner 
as  a  butterwoman's  daughter  could  give  him  he 
should  be  welcome.  Away  they  walked  to  Craven 
Street ;  the  mother  borrowed  some  silver  to  buy  a 
leg  of  mutton,  and  they  kept  the  eager  lover  drink- 
ing till  twelve  at  night,  when,  with  a  chosen  com- 
mittee, the  faithful  pair  waited  on  the  minister  of 
Mayfair.  The  doctor  was  in  bed,  and  swore  he 
would  not  get  up  to  marry  the  king,  but  that  he 
had  a  brother  over  the  way  who  perhaps  would, 
and  who  did.  The  mother  borrowed  a  pair  of 
sheets,  and  they  consummated  at  her  house ;  and 
the  next  day  they  went  to  their  own  palace." 

The  streets  which  occupy  the  site  of  old  Mayfair 
are  of  too  modern  date  to  present  any  extraordi- 
nary features  of  interest.  Where  Hertford  Street, 
originally  called  Garrick  Street,  now  stands,  there 
formerly  stood  a  public-house,  known  as  the  "  Dog 
and  Duck,"  behind,  or  rather  to  the  north  of  which 
was  a  large  pond  which  was  a  favourite  resort  of 


84  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

the  admirers  of  the  ancient  sport  of  duck  hunting. 
In  this  street  lived  General  John  Burgoyne,  as 
celebrated  for  his  defeat  at  Saratoga  as  for  his 
comedy  of  the  "  Heiress,"  and  in  the  same  house 
afterward  resided  Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan.  In 
this  street,  also,  Mrs.  Jordan  took  up  her  residence 
when  she  first  placed  herself  under  the  protection 
of  the  late  king. 

At  his  house  in  Curzon  Street,  Mayfair,  died 
George,  Earl  Macartney,  celebrated  for  his  em- 
bassy to  China;  and  in  Chesterfield  Street,  for 
many  years,  resided  the  witty  and  eccentric  George 
Selwyn.  At  a  small  house  (No.  4)  in  the  latter 
street  lived  the  celebrated  George  Brummell.  His 
establishment  must  have  been  sufficiently  con- 
tracted ;  but  with  the  aid  of  his  own  fascinating 
powers  of  conversation,  an  excellent  cook,  and 
admirable  wine,  he  attracted  to  his  little  dining- 
parlour  in  Chesterfield  Street  all  the  wit,  the 
talent,  and  profligacy  which  distinguished  the 
commencement  of  the  present  century.  Here 
George  the  Fourth,  when  Prince  of  Wales,  was 
often  his  guest.  Frequently,  it  is  said,  the  prince 
would  pay  him  a  morning  visit  in  Chesterfield 
Street,  to  watch  the  progress  of  his  friend's  inimi- 
table toilet  ;  sometimes  sending  his  horses  away, 
and  remaining  to  so  late  an  hour  that  he  was 
compelled  to  insist  on  BrummeH's  giving  him  a 
quiet  dinner,  which  not  uncommonly  terminated 
in  a  midnight  debauch.  Chesterfield  House,  from 


MAYFAIR.  85 

which  Chesterfield  Street  takes  its  name,  was 
built  by  the  celebrated  Earl  of  Chesterfield  in  the 
reign  of  George  the  Second.  The  staircase  (the 
only  marble  one,  we  believe,  in  London,  except 
that  at  Northumberland  House)  was  brought  from 
the  magnificent  seat  of  the  Duke  of  Chandos  at 
Canons. 

From  Curzon  Street  we  pass  into  South  Audley 
Street,  in  the  chapel  in  which  street  Lord  Chester- 
field and  the  celebrated  John  Wilkes  lie  buried ; 
and  to  the  west  runs  Chapel  Street,  at  No.  13  in 
which  street  Brummel  removed  from  Chesterfield 
Street,  and  from  which  house  he  made  his  sudden 
flight  to  the  Continent  in  1816.  In  South  Audley 
Street,  the  two  exiled  Kings  of  France,  Louis 
the  Eighteenth  and  Charles  the  Tenth,  occupied 
at  different  periods  the  same  house ;  and  close 
by,  in  a  house  overlooking  Hyde  Park,  lived  the 
infamous  Egalite,  Philip,  Duke  of  Orleans. 

South  Audley  Street  leads  us  into  Grosvenor 
Square,  which  derives  its  name  from  having  been 
built  on  the  property  of  Sir  Richard  Grosvenor, 
who  was  cupbearer  at  the  coronation  of  George 
the  Second,  and  who  died  in  1732.  On  the  site 
of  this  aristocratic  square  the  rebel  citizens  of 
London,  during  the  civil  war,  erected  a  strong 
line  of  fortifications ;  the  redoubt,  long  known  as 
Oliver's  Mount,  being  thrown  up  close  to  where 
the  statue  of  George  the  First,  the  work  of  Van 
Nost,  now  stands.  From  this  mound  it  would 


86  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

seem  that  Mount  Street  derives  its  name.  The 
gardens  in  the  centre  of  Grosvenor  Square  were 
laid  out  by  the  well-known  landscape  gardener, 
Kent. 

In  Grosvenor  Square  lived  Melesina  Schulen- 
berg,  Duchess  of  Kendal,  —  the  gaunt  and  un- 
sightly mistress  of  George  the  First,  to  whom  she 
was  supposed  to  have  been  united  by  a  left-handed 
marriage ;  and  next  door  to  her,  before  the  erec- 
tion of  Chesterfield  House,  lived  the  celebrated 
Lord  Chesterfield,  who  had  married  Melesina, 
Countess  of  Walsingham,  the  reputed  niece  of 
the  duchess,  but  who,  there  is  every  reason  to 
believe,  was  her  daughter  by  her  royal  lover. 

At  his  house  in  Upper  Grosvenor  Street  died> 
in  1765,  William,  Duke  of  Cumberland,  memo- 
rable for  the  atrocities  which  he  committed  after 
the  battle  of  Culloden  ;  and  in  Grosvenor  Street, 
also,  breathed  her  last,  in  1730,  the  frail,  the  beau- 
tiful, and  warm-hearted  actress,  Mrs.  Oldfield.  Her 
corpse  having  been  decorated  with  fine  Brussels 
lace,  "a  holland  shift  with  a  tucker  and  double 
ruffles  of  the  same  lace,  and  a  pair  of  new  kid 
gloves,"  was  conveyed  from  her  house  in  Grosvenor 
Street  to  the  Jerusalem  Chamber  at  Westminster, 
from  whence,  having  lain  in  state  during  the  day, 
it  was  carried  at  eleven  o'clock  at  night  to  the 
abbey,  Lord  De  la  Warr,  Lord  Hervey,  Bubb 
Doddington,  and  other  gentlemen  supporting  the 
pall. 


MAYFAIR.  87 

Running  parallel  with  Upper  Grosvenor  Street 
is  Upper  Brook  Street,  remarkable  for  one  of  the 
most  lamentable  fires  which  occurred  in  London 
during  the  last  century.  Horace  Walpole  writes 
to  Marshal  Conway,  on  the  6th  of  May,  1763  : 
"  I  must  tell  you  of  the  most  dismal  calamity  that 
ever  happened.  Lady  Molesworth's  house  in  Upper 
Brook  Street  was  burnt  to  the  ground  between 
four  and  five  this  morning.  She  herself,  two  of 
her  daughters,  her  brother,  and  six  servants  per- 
ished. Two  other  of  the  young  ladies  jumped 
out  of  the  two  pair  of  stairs  and  garret  windows ; 
one  broke  her  thigh,  the  other  (the  eldest  of  all) 
broke  hers  too,  and  has  had  it  cut  off.  The  fifth 
daughter  is  much  burnt ;  the  French  governess 
leaped  from  the  garret,  and  was  dashed  to  pieces  ; 
Doctor  Molesworth  and  his  wife,  who  were  there 
on  a  visit,  escaped ;  the  wife  by  jumping  from  the 
two  pair  of  stairs,  and  saving  herself  by  a  rail,  he 
by  hanging  by  his  hands  till  a  second  ladder  was 
brought,  after  a  first  had  proved  too  short.  No- 
body knows  how  or  where  the  fire  began  ;  the 
catastrophe  is  shocking  beyond  what  one  ever 
heard,  and  poor  Lady  Molesworth,  whose  charac- 
ter and  conduct  were  the  most  amiable  in  the 
world,  is  universally  lamented."  It  was  to  the 
credit  of  George  the  Third  that,  immediately  upon 
hearing  of  this  dreadful  calamity,  he  sent  the  sur- 
viving young  ladies  a  handsome  present ;  ordered 
a  house  to  be  immediately  prepared  for  their 


88  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

reception  at  his  own  expense ;  and  not  only  con- 
tinued to  them  a  pension  which  had  been  enjoyed 
by  their  mother,  but  ordered  it  to  be  increased  by 
two  hundred  pounds  a  year. 

Crossing  Oxford  Street,  we  soon  find  ourselves 
in  Portman  Square,  which  was  built  about  the  year 
1764,  but  of  which  I  know  little  that  is  interest- 
ing, except  that  Montagu  House,  the  large  house 
which  stands  alone  at  the  northwest  corner,  was 
once  the  residence  of  the  well-known  Mrs.  Mon- 
tagu, the  Madame  du  Deffand  of  her  day.  Here, 
once  a  year,  she  feasted  the  chimney-sweepers  in 
the  garden  of  Montagu  House ;  here  assembled 
the  wit,  the  rank,  and  the  talent  of  the  last  cen- 
tury ;  and  here  was  the  apartment,  covered  with 
feather  hangings,  which  Cowper  has  rendered  so 
celebrated  : 

"  The  birds  put  off  their  every  hue, 
To  dress  a  room  for  Montagu ; 
The  peacock  sends  his  heavenly  dyes, 
His  rainbows  and  his  starry  eyes  ; 
The  pheasant  plumes,  which  round  infold 
His  mantling  neck  with  downy  gold ; 
The  cock  his  arched  tail's  azure  show, 
And  river-blanched,  the  swan  his  snow,"  etc. 

Seymour  Street  and  Wigmore  Street  lead  us 
into  Cavendish  Square.  It  is  curious  to  find  how, 
almost  entirely,  the  streets  in  this  vicinity  have 
derived  their  names  from  the  Harleys,  Earls  of 
Oxford,  and  from  the  different  families  with  which 


House. 

Photo-etching  from  an  old  engraving  in  Stow's  Survey. 


MAYFAIR.  89 

they  have  intermarried.  From  the  earldom  of 
Mortimer  and  the  barony  of  Harley  of  Wigmore, 
we  trace  the  names  of  Mortimer  Street,  Harley 
Street,  and  Wigmore  Street ;  from  the  marriage 
of  Edward,  second  Earl  of  Oxford  and  Mortimer, 
with  Henrietta  Cavendish,  daughter  and  heiress  of 
John  Holies,  Duke  of  Newcastle,  we  derive  Ed- 
ward Street,  Henrietta  Street,  Cavendish  Square, 
and  Holies  Street ;  from  the  union  of  their  only 
child,  Margaret,  to  William  Bentinck,  second  Duke 
of  Portland,  we  trace  Margaret  Street,  Bentinck 
Street,  Duke  and  Duchess  Street,  and  Portland 
Place  ;  and,  lastly,  we  derive  Bulstrode  Street  from 
the  family  seat  of  the  Dukes  of  Portland,  and 
Welbeck  Street  from  an  estate  formerly  in  the 
possession  of  the  Dukes  of  Newcastle,  which  came 
into  the  possession  of  the  Harleys  by  the  marriage 
of  the  last  female  descendant  of  the  former  to  the 
second  Earl  of  Oxford. 

Cavendish  Square  was  built  about  the  year 
1718.  Here  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu  held 
her  court,  composed  of  youth,  rank,  and  beauty, 
before  her  long  absence  from  England,  and,  at 
the  corner  house  of  the  Square  and  Harley  Street, 
the  Princess  Amelia,  daughter  of  George  the  Sec- 
ond, lived  and  died.  In  the  same  house  afterward 
lived  Mr.  Hope,  the  author  of  "  Anastasius,"  and 
subsequently  Mr.  Watson  Taylor. 

Harley  Street,  and  other  streets  to  the  north, 
were  not  built  till  many  years  after  the  erection 


90  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

of  Cavendish  Square.  This  site  was  formerly 
known  as  Harley  Fields,  and,  as  late  as  1768,  we 
find  thousands  of  persons  assembling  here  in  the 
open  air  to  listen  to  the  exhortations  of  the  eminent 
preacher,  Whitefield.  About  the  same  time  we  find 
the  celebrated  John  Wesley  preaching  on  "  execu- 
tion days  "  on  Kennington  Common.  In  Harley 
Street  lived  Sir  Philip  Francis,  previous  to  his 
removal  to  St.  James's  Square. 

The  streets  in  the  vicinity  of  Cavendish  Square 
furnish  the  names  of  several  persons  of  celebrity 
who  formerly  resided  in  them.  In  Bentinck  Street 
lived  Gibbon,  the  historian,  and  in  Holies  Street 
resided  the  mother  of  Lord  Byron,  and  here  the 
great  poet  was  born  in  January,  1788.  Martha 
Blount,  beloved  and  immortalised  by  Pope,  lived 
in  Welbeck  Street ; *  in  this  street  Lord  George 
Gordon  was  residing  at  the  time  of  the  cele- 
brated riots  which  bear  his  name ;  and  here  died, 
in  1769,  at  the  age  of  ninety-seven,  Edmund 
Hoyle,  author  of  the  famous  treatise  on  the  game 
of  whist. 

Castle  Street,  Cavendish  Square,  is  interesting 
from  having  been  the  residence  of  two  men  of 
genius,  Doctor  Johnson  and  Barry,  the  painter, 
who  lived  here,  at  different  times,  in  the  days 
of  their  distress.  Opposite  to  Doctor  Johnson's 
humble  lodgings  resided  two  sisters  of  the  name 

1  Pope,  in  his  will,  speaks  of  her  as  Mrs.  Martha  Blount,  late 
of  Welbeck  Street,  Cavendish  Square. 


MAYFAIR.  91 

of  Cotterell.  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  then  scarcely 
known  to  fame,  was  their  frequent  visitor,  and  at 
the  house  of  the  maiden  ladies  commenced  the 
friendship  between  Johnson  and  Reynolds,  which 
only  terminated  with  their  lives.  "  Sir  Joshua," 
says  Boswell,  "told  me  a  pleasant  characteristical 
anecdote  of  Johnson  about  the  time  of  their  first 
acquaintance.  When  they  were  one  evening  to- 
gether at  the  Miss  Cotterells',  the  then  Duchess 
of  Argyle  and  another  lady  of  high  rank  came  in. 
Johnson,  thinking  that  the  Miss  Cotterells  were 
too  much  engrossed  by  them,  and  that  he  and  his 
friend  were  neglected,  as  low  company  of  whom 
they  were  somewhat  ashamed,  grew  angry ;  and 
resolving  to  shock  their  supposed  pride,  by  mak- 
ing their  great  visitors  imagine  that  his  friend  and 
he  were  low  indeed,  he  addressed  himself  in  a  loud 
tone  to  Mr.  Reynolds,  saying,  '  How  much  do  you 
think  you  and  I  could  get  in  a  week,  if  we  were  to 
work  as  hard  as  we  could  ? '  —  as  if  they  had  been 
common  mechanics." 

The  residence  of  poor  Barry  is  known  to 
have  been  at  No.  36  Castle  Street.  Edmund 
Burke,  on  one  occasion,  offered  to  dine  with  him 
at  his  humble  abode,  at  which  the  artist  demurred 
for  a  moment,  but  afterward  added  that,  if  the 
statesman  would  content  himself  with  no  other 
fare  than  a  steak,  he  would  promise  him  one  of 
the  hottest  and  best  in  London.  "Accordingly," 
we  are  told,  "on  the  day  and  hour  named,  Burke 


92  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

appeared,  and  was  received  by  his  host,  who  con- 
ducted him  into  the  carpenter's  shop,  which  he 
had  transformed  into  his  painting-room.  Along 
the  walls  hung  the  sketches  of  his  great  paint- 
ings which  now  exist  at  the  Adelphi.  Old  strain- 
ing-frames, sketches,  a  printing-press,  with  which 
he  printed  with  his  own  hand  the  plates  engraved 
from  his  pictures,  formed  the  other  chief  contents 
of  the  place.  The  windows  were  mostly  broken 
or  cracked,  and  the  tiled  roof  showed  the  sky 
through  many  a  crevice.  There  were  two  old 
chairs  and  a  single  deal  table.  The  fire,  how- 
ever, was  bright,  and  Barry  cordial.  Presently 
a  pair  of  tongs  was  put  in  Burke's  hands,  with 
the  remark,  '  Be  useful,  my  dear  friend,  and  look 
to  the  steaks  while  I  fetch  the  porter.'  The 
statesman  got  on  admirably  with  his  task,  and, 
by  the  time  Barry  returned,  the  steak  was  done 
to  a  turn.  '  What  a  misfortune,'  exclaimed  Barry, 
as  he  entered,  'the  wind  carried  away  the  fine 
foaming  top  as  I  crossed  Titchfield  Street.'  The 
friends  then  sat  down  to  the  feast ;  anecdote  and 
criticism  flowed  freely  ;  the  stars  were  propitious  ; 
no  cloud  ruffled  the  painter's  mind,  and  altogether 
Burke  used  to  say  he  had  never  spent  a  happier 
evening." 

Oxford  House,  the  ancient  manor-house  of 
Mary-le-bone,  the  residence,  at  a  later  period, 
of  the  Harleys,  Earls  of  Oxford,  and  the  recepta- 
cle of  the  great  Harleian  library,  before  its  trans- 


MAYFAIR.  93 

fer  to  the  British  Museum,  stood  opposite  Mary- 
le-bone  Church,  and  was  in  existence  as  late  as 
1791. 

Mary-le-bone  is  corrupted  from  St.  Mary-on-the- 
bourne,  or  rather  St.  Mary-on-the-river ;  bourne 
being  the  Saxon  name  for  a  river.  In  the  days 
of  Queen  Elizabeth,  the  Crown  possessed  a  vast 
domain  in  this  district,  of  which,  we  believe,  the 
Regent's  Park  is  now  nearly  all  that  remains  to  it, 
and  accordingly  in  that  reign  we  find  the  ambas- 
sador from  the  Emperor  of  Russia,  "and  other 
Muscovites,"  riding  through  the  city  of  London  to 
Mary-le-bone  Park,  and  there  "hunting  at  their 
pleasure."  The  old  manor-house  was  probably 
the  ancient  hunting-lodge  of  the  royal  domain. 
Having  passed  out  of  the  possession  of  the  Har- 
leys,  it  became,  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Anne,  cele- 
brated for  its  fashionable  bowling-green,  and  as 
the  resort  of  well-dressed  gamesters  and  sharpers. 
Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu,  alluding  to  Shef- 
field, Duke  of  Buckingham,  observes : 

"  Some  dukes  at  Mary-bone  bowl  time  away." 

Pennant  also,  speaking  of  the  duke's  intimacy 
with  the  frequenters  of  Mary-le-bone  gardens, 
says,  "  His  Grace  always  gave  them  a  dinner  at 
the  conclusion  of  the  season,  and  his  parting  toast 
was,  '  May  as  many  of  us  as  remain  unhanged  next 
spring  meet  here  again.'  "  Mary-le-bone  gardens 


94  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

are  perhaps  now  principally  remembered  as  being 
the  scene  of  one  of  Macheath's  debauches  in  the 
"Beggar's  Opera."  At  a  later  period  they  were 
converted  into  a  place  of  diversion  resembling  the 
present  Vauxhall,  the  amusements  consisting  of 
theatrical  exhibitions,  vocal  and  instrumental  music, 
and  terminating  with  fireworks.  The  gardens, 
which  were  closed  to  the  public  about  1777,  stood 
on  the  site  of  the  present  Devonshire  Place,  Beau- 
mont Street,  and  the  north  end  of  Harley  Street ; 
and  close  to  the  latter  may  still  be  seen  three  or 
four  trees,  the  last  mementos  of  the  once  cele- 
brated Mary-le-bone  gardens.  It  may  be  men- 
tioned that  in  the  theatre  in  Mary-le-bone  gar- 
dens Charles  Dibdin  and  Bannister  made  their 
debut. 

At  a  tavern  in  High  Street,  Mary-le-bone,  the 
celebrated  Nancy  Dawson,  when  a  young  girl,  was 
employed  in  setting  up  skittles.  She  died  at 
Hampstead  in  1767,  and  was  buried  behind  the 
Foundling  Hospital.  In  Titchfield  Street,  Mary- 
le-bone,  Cuthbert  Shaw,  the  poet,  "  distinguished 
alike  by  his  genius,  his  misfortunes,  and  his  mis- 
conduct," died  in  great  distress  in  1771,  and  in 
this  street,  at  the  house  of  a  brother  artist,  Joseph 
Bonomi,  died  the  celebrated  artist,  James  Barry, 
in  1806. 

We  will  conclude  our  notices  of  the  vicinity  of 
Cavendish  Square  with  a  tragical  event  which  oc- 
curred at  Chandos  House,  the  London  residence 


MAYFAIR.  95 

of  James  Brydges,  Duke  of  Chandos,  styled  from 
his  magnificent  mode  of  living,  the  "grand  duke," 
and  sometimes  the  "  princely  Chandos."  Exceeding 
his  customary  splendour,  the  duke  had  announced 
a  princely  entertainment  on  the  occasion  of  the 
christening  of  his  infant  heir.  The  king  and 
queen  had  consented  to  become  sponsors ;  for 
weeks  the  magnificent  preparations  were  the  topic 
of  conversation  in  every  circle  ;  the  long  expected 
night  arrived;  the  guests,  including  the  royal 
family,  filled  the  gorgeous  apartments ;  and,  with 
all  due  honours,  the  child,  in  the  arms  of  its  nurse, 
was  conducted  to  the  place  of  honour  which  had 
been  appointed  for  the  ceremony  of  its  initiation 
into  the  Church.  Suddenly,  however,  the  scene 
changed.  Affected,  it  is  said,  by  the  excessive 
glare  of  light,  the  child  was  seized  with  convul- 
sions. The  ceremony  was  stopped ;  the  guests 
departed  to  their  respective  homes,  and  before 
midnight  the  infant  pride  of  the  princely  Chandos 
had  breathed  its  last.  The  duke  and  duchess  were 
both  deeply  affected  by  their  extraordinary  be- 
reavement. The  former  died  shortly  afterward, 
and  the  latter  retired  from  the  world,  but  not  from 
the  house  which  had  witnessed  the  wreck  of  her 
fondest  hopes,  for  she  is  said  to  have  conceived  a 
melancholy  pleasure  in  residing  there  to  the  last. 
Hanover  Square  and  the  adjoining  streets  were 
built  about  the  same  time  as  Cavendish  Square. 
In  1716  the  site  which  they  occupy  was  open 


96  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

country,  but  their  names  appear  in  the  plans  of 
London  published  in  1720.  Pennant,  who  died 
as  late  as  1798,  observes:  "Oxford  Street,  from 
Prince's  Street  eastward  as  far  as  High  Street,  St. 
Giles's,  was  almost  unbuilt  on  the  north  side.  I 
remember  there  a  deep  hollow  road,  and  full  of 
sloughs  ;  there  was  here  and  there  a  ragged  house, 
the  lurking-place  of  cut-throats,  insomuch  that  I 
never  was  taken  that  way  by  night,  in  my  hackney- 
coach,  to  a  worthy  uncle's  who  gave  me  lodgings 
at  his  house  in  George  Street,  but  I  went  in  dread 
the  whole  way."  At  his  house  in  Hanover  Square, 
died,  in  1735,  the  once  popular  poet,  George  Gran- 
ville,  Lord  Lansdowne ;  here  also  at  one  time 
lived  the  celebrated  circumnavigator  of  the  globe, 
George,  Lord  Anson  ;  and  there,  in  1792,  a  no  less 
celebrated  naval  commander,  George,  Lord  Rodney, 
breathed  his  last. 

In  George  Street,  Hanover  Square,  Lady  Mary 
Wortley  Montagu  passed  the  last  months  of  her 
long  life.  We  learn,  from  a  member  of  her  fam- 
ily, that  from  her  long  residence  on  the  Continent 
she  had  imbibed  foreign  tastes  and  foreign  habits, 
and  consequently  that  the  change  from  the  gloomy 
magnificence  of  an  Italian  palace  to  a  small,  three- 
storied  house  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Hanover 
Square  was  as  striking  as  it  was  disagreeable.  "  I 
am  most  handsomely  lodged,"  she  said,  "for  I 
have  two  very  decent  closets,  and  a  cupboard  on 
each  floor."  One  can  almost  imagine  her  figure 


MAYFAIR.  97 

as  she  issued  from  her  house  in  George  Street ; 
such  at  least  as  it  is  described  by  Walpole  in  a 
letter  written  about  six  months  before  her  death. 
"  Lady  Mary  Wortley,"  he  writes,  "  is  arrived ;  I 
have  seen  her ;  I  think  her  avarice,  her  dirt,  and 
her  vivacity  are  all  increased.  Her  dress,  like  her 
languages,  is  a  galimatias  of  several  countries,  the 
groundwork  rags,  and  the  embroidery  nastiness. 
She  needs  no  cap,  no  handkerchief,  no  gown,  no 
petticoat,  no  shoes.  An  old  black-laced  hood  rep- 
resents the  first ;  the  fur  of  a  horseman's  coat, 
which  replaces  the  third,  serves  for  the  second ;  a 
dimity  petticoat  is  deputy,  and  officiates  for  the 
fourth ;  and  slippers  act  the  part  of  the  last." 
Such  is  the  picture,  drawn  at  the  close  of  life,  of 
the  once  witty,  beautiful,  and  fascinating  Lady 
Mary  Wortley  Montagu.  She  died  in  August, 
1762,  of  a  terrible  disorder,  a  cancer  in  the  breast. 
Before  quitting  the  neighbourhood  of  Hanover 
Square,  let  us  cross  New  Bond  Street  into  Wood- 
stock Street,  which  will  always  be  interesting  to 
the  lovers  of  literary  history,  as  the  street  where 
Doctor  Johnson  first  fixed  himself  with  his 
"Tetty,"  after  his  arrival  in  London  in  search 
of  fortune  and  fame.  "  He  now  [1737]  removed," 
says  Boswell,  "  to  London  with  Mrs.  Johnson. 
His  lodgings  were  for  some  time  in  Woodstock 
Street,  near  Hanover  Square,  and  afterward  in 
Castle  Street,  Cavendish  Square.  As  there  is 
something  pleasingly  interesting  to  many,  in 


98  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

tracing  so  great  a  man  through  all  his  different 
habitations,  I  shall,  before  this  work  is  concluded, 
present  my  readers  with  an  exact  list  of  his  lodg- 
ings and  houses,  in  order  of  time,  which,  in  placid 
condescension  to  my  respectful  curiosity,  he  one 
evening  dictated  to  me,  but  without  specifying 
how  long  he  lived  at  each." 

In  Argyle  Street,  within  a  short  distance  of 
Hanover  Square,  lived  the  unfortunate  Doctor 
Dodd,  who  expiated  a  life  of  vanity,  hypocrisy, 
and  pleasure  on  the  gibbet.  Wraxall  mentions 
his  having  dined  at  his  table  in  Argyle  Street, 
when  the  celebrated  Wilkes,  Sir  William  Jones, 
and  De  Lolme,  formed  the  remainder  of  the  com- 
pany. "  Mrs.  Dodd,"  says  Wraxall,  "  presided, 
and  afterward  received  in  her  drawing-room  a 
large  party  of  both  sexes."  In  that  gay  circle, 
who  would  not  have  laughed  to  scorn  the  idea 
that  their  clerical  and  gifted  host  would  die  by 
the  hands  of  the  common  hangman  ! 

Bond  Street  is  replete  with  interesting  literary 
associations.  From  hence  I  find  Gilbert  West, 
the  poet,  dating  many  of  his  letters  to  Gray; 
here,  at  the  house  of  Mrs.  Miller,  Fielding  has 
placed  many  of  the  most  pathetic  scenes  in  his 
immortal  novel  of  "  Tom  Jones ; "  here  it  was 
that  the  unfortunate  poet,  Richard  Savage,  be- 
sieged the  house  of  his  unnatural  mother,  the 
Countess  of  Macclesfield ;  and  here  Archibald 
Bower,  author  of  the  "  History  of  the  Popes,"  — 


MAYFAIR.  99 

so  remarkable  for  his  eccentric  vices  and  strange 
adventures, — breathed  his  last.  He  died  in  Septem- 
ber, 1766,  and  was  buried  in  Mary-le-bone  church- 
yard, where  there  is  a  monument  to  his  memory. 

In  1769  Boswell  lived  in  lodgings  in  Old  Bond 
Street.  He  mentions,  on  one  occasion,  enter- 
taining at  dinner,  in  this  street,  Doctor  Johnson, 
Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  Garrick,  Goldsmith,  Murphy, 
Tom  Davis,  the  bookseller  and  actor,  and  Bicker- 
staff,  the  author  of  "  Love  in  a  Village." 

But  there  are  literary  associations  still  more 
interesting  connected  with  Bond  Street.  It  was 
here  that  Gibbon  passed  his  solitary  evenings, 
composing  his  immortal  history.  Every  one  re- 
members the  memorable  passage,  in  which  the 
great  historian  paints  his  lonely  situation  in  the 
midst  of  the  fashionable  world.  "  I  had  not  been 
endowed  by  art  or  nature  with  those  happy  gifts 
of  confidence  and  address,  which  unlock  every 
door  and  every  bosom ;  nor  would  it  be  reasonable 
to  complain  of  the  just  consequences  of  my  sickly 
childhood,  foreign  education,  and  reserved  temper. 
While  coaches  were  rattling  through  Bond  Street, 
I  have  passed  many  a  solitary  evening  in  my 
lodging  with  my  books.  My  studies  were  some- 
times interrupted  by  a  sigh,  which  I  breathed 
toward  Lausanne ;  and  on  the  approach  of  spring, 
I  withdrew  without  reluctance  from  the  noisy  and 
extensive  scene  of  crowds  without  company,  and 
dissipation  without  pleasure." 


100  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

Sterne  breathed  his  last  in  Bond  Street.  We 
are  told,  in  the  memoir  of  him  attached  to  his 
works,  that  "he  submitted  to  fate  on  the  i8th 
day  of  March,  1768,  at  his  lodgings  in  Bond 
Street." 

Mr.  D' Israeli  observes  :  "  It  does  not  appear  to 
have  been  noticed  that  Sterne  died  with  neither 
friend  nor  relation  by  his  side !  A  hired  nurse 
was  the  sole  companion  of  the  man  whose  wit 
found  admirers  in  every  street,  but  whose  heart, 
it  would  seem,  could  not  draw  one  to  his  death- 
bed. We  cannot  say  whether  Sterne,  who  had 
been  long  dying,  had  resolved  to  practise  his  own 
principle,  when  he  made  the  philosopher  Shandy, 
who  had  a  fine  saying  for  everything,  deliver  his 
opinion  on  death,  '  that  there  is  no  terror,  brother 
Toby,  in  its  looks,  but  what  it  borrows  from  groans 
and  convulsions,  and  the  blowing  of  noses,  and  the 
wiping  away  of  tears  with  the  bottoms  of  curtains 
in  a  dying  man's  room.  Strip  it  of  these,  what  is 
it  ? '  I  find  the  moment  of  his  death  described  in 
a  singular  book,  the  'Life  of  a  Footman.'  I  give 
it  with  all  its  particulars  :  '  In  the  month  of  Janu- 
ary, 1768,  we  set  off  for  London.  We  stopped 
for  some  time  at  Almack's  house  in  Pall  Mall. 
My  master  afterward  took  Sir  James  Gray's  house 
in  Clifford  Street,  who  was  going  ambassador  to 
Spain.  He  now  began  housekeeping,  hired  a 
French  cook,  housemaid,  and  kitchen-maid,  and 
kept  a  great  deal  of  the  best  company.  About 


Laurence  Sterne. 

Photo-etching  after  the  painting  by  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds. 


LAURENCE  STERNEAM 


MAYFAIR.  101 

this  time,  Mr.  Sterne,  the  celebrated  author,  was 
taken  ill  at  the  silk-bag  shop  in  Old  Bond  Street. 
He  was  sometimes  called  Tristram  Shandy,  and 
sometimes  Yorick,  a  very  great  favourite  of  the 
gentlemen's.  One  day  my  master  had  company 
to  dinner,  who  were  speaking  about  him ;  the 
Duke  of  Roxburgh,  the  Earl  of  March,  the  Earl 
of  Ossory,  the  Duke  of  Grafton,  Mr.  Garrick,  Mr. 
Hume,  and  Mr.  James.  "John,"  said  my  master, 
"go  and  inquire  how  Mr.  Sterne  is  to-day."  I 
went,  returned,  and  said,  "  I  went  to  Mr.  Sterne's 
lodging  —  the  mistress  opened  the  door  —  I  in- 
quired how  he  did.  She  told  me  to  go  up  to  the 
nurse  ;  I  went  into  the  room,  and  he  was  just 
a-dying.  I  waited  ten  minutes ;  but  in  five,  he 
said,  v  Now  is  it  come ! '  He  put  up  his  hand,  as 
if  to  stop  a  blow,  and  died  in  a  minute."  The 
gentlemen  were  all  very  sorry,  and  lamented  him 
very  much.' ' 

"A  cheerless  end,  neglected  Sterne,  was  thine  ! 
Thy  closing  scene  demands  a  gloomier  line ; 
Thou  who  didst  boast  when  youthful  blood  ran  warm, 
That  Death  was  dreadful  only  in  his  form ; 
A  boon,  if  free  from  Love's  convulsive  sighs, 
From  groans,  and  pomp,  and  funeral  obsequies ; 
Say,  through  thy  nights  of  sickness  and  of  pain, 
Did  nothing  whisper  thee  thy  boast  was  vain  ? 
When  Death  upon  thy  lonely  couch  looked  down, 
Was  there  no  terror,  Yorick,  in  his  frown? 
Short  was  the  triumph  of  thy  bright  career, 
Who  wok'st  at  will  the  laughter  or  the  tear; 


102  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

Whose  plaintive  fiction,  or  whose  comic  page 
Cheered  the  sick-room,  and  soothed  the  cares  of  age ; 
Yet  ill  the  world  that  of  thy  wit  did  rave, 
Repaid  thee  for  the  pleasure  which  it  gave : 
Lone  was  thy  parting  scene !  no  friend  was  there, 
No  loved  one  sobbing  with  dishevelled  hair ; 
Of  all  who  wooed  thee  to  their  social  board, 
The  wealthy  coxcomb,  and  the  empty  lord, 
Not  all  thy  genius,  wit,  nor  fame  could  bring 
One  friend  to  tend  thee  till  thy  soul  took  wing; 
Thy  sole  companion  was  the  hireling  nurse, 
The  hireling  mute  sole  mourner  o'er  thy  hearse  !  " 

-J.H.J. 

Sterne  was  interred  in  the  burying-ground  be- 
longing to  the  parish  of  St.  George,  Hanover 
Square,  near  Connaught  Place,  where  a  monu- 
ment, erected  by  two  brother  freemasons  to  his 
memory,  may  still  be  seen. 

The  literary  interest  which  attaches  itself  to 
Bond  Street  has  descended  even  to  our  own  time. 
In  the  days  of  his  dissipation,  "  Stevens's  "  hotel, 
near  Clifford  Street,  was  the  favourite  resort  of 
Lord  Byron;  and,  in  1815,  we  find  Sir  Walter 
Scott  residing  at  a  neighbouring  hotel,  "  Long's." 
"  I  saw  Lord  Byron  for  the  first  time,"  says  Sir 
Walter,  "in  1815,  after  I  returned  from  France. 
He  dined,  or  lunched,  with  me  at  Long's,  in  Bond 
Street.  I  never  saw  him  so  full  of  gaiety  and 
good-humour,  to  which  the  presence  of  Mr.  Mat- 
thews, the  comedian,  added  not  a  little.  Poor 
Terry  was  also  present.  After  one  of  the  gayest 


MAYFAIR.  103 

parties  I  ever  was  present  at,  my  fellow  traveller 
and  I  set  off  for  Scotland,  and  I  never  saw  Lord 
Byron  again." 

Bond  Street,  it  may  be  remarked,  derives  its 
name  from  Sir  Thomas  Bond,  whose  house,  in 
Piccadilly,  we  find  temporarily  occupied  by  the 
French  ambassador,  in  1699.  The  building  of  Old 
Bond  Street  was  commenced  about  the  year  1716; 
and,  even  at  this  early  period,  we  find  it  a  fashion- 
able lounging-place.  In  the  Weekly  Journal,  of 
the  ist  of  June,  1/17,  we  read:  "The  new  build- 
ings, between  Bond  Street  and  Mary-le-bone,  go 
on  with  all  possible  diligence ;  and  the  houses 
even  let  and  sell  before  they  are  built.  They  are 
already  in  great  forwardness.  Could  the  builders 
have  supposed  their  labours  would  have  produced 
a  place  so  extremely  fashionable,  they  might  prob- 
ably have  deviated,  once  at  least,  from  their  usual 
parsimony  by  making  the  way  rather  wider  :  as 
it  is  at  present,  coaches  are  greatly  impeded  in 
the  rapidity  of  their  course ;  but  this  is  fortunate 
for  the  Bond  Street  loungers,  who  are  by  this 
defect  granted  glimpses  of  the  fashionable  and 
generally  titled  fair,  who  pass  and  repass  from  two 
till  five  o'clock." 

From  Bond  Street,  let  us  pass,  through  Bruton 
Street,  into  Berkeley  Square.  In  Bruton  Street, 
for  many  years,  lived  Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan, 
where  his  house  was  often  so  beset  with  duns  and 
bailiffs  that  the  provisions  required  for  his  family 


104  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

were  obliged  to  be  introduced  over  the  iron  railing 
into  the  area  below.  We  have  already  mentioned, 
in  our  notices  of  Piccadilly,  that  Berkeley  Square, 
Hill  Street,  Hay  Hill,  and  Farm  Street  derive 
their  names  from  Lord  Berkeley  of  Stratton,  and 
a  property  called  Hay  Hill  Farm,  of  which  his 
lordship  had  become  the  purchaser.  Berkeley 
Square  was  built  at  the  commencement  of  the  last 
century.  Lansdowne  House,  the  principal  house 
in  the  square,  was  once  the  residence  of  John, 
Earl  of  Bute,  the  celebrated  minister  and  favourite, 
by  whom  it  was  built  in  1765,  and  afterward  sold 
by  him  for  ,£22,000  to  the  first  Marquis  of  Lans- 
downe, who,  as  Lord  Shelburne,  played  scarcely 
a  less  prominent  part  in  politics  than  Lord  Bute. 
Many  other  persons  of  celebrity  have  been  resi- 
dents of  Berkeley  Square.  Here  lived  the  "  heaven- 
born  general,"  Lord  Clive,  and  Thomas  Hope,  the 
author  of  "  Anastasius."  Here,  shortly  after  her 
removal  from  George  Street,  died  Lady  Mary 
Wortley  Montagu,  and  here  also  Horace  Walpole 
breathed  his  last. 

In  Hill  Street,  in  1775,  lived  the  gifted  and 
accomplished  Mrs.  Montagu.  Hannah  More  writes 
to  one  of  her  sisters  :  "  I  had  yesterday  the  pleas- 
ure of  dining  in  Hill  Street,  Berkeley  Square,  at  a 
certain  Mrs.  Montagu's,  a  name  not  totally  obscure. 
The  party  consisted  of  Mrs.  Carter,  Doctor  John- 
son, Solander,  and  Maty,  Mrs.  Boscawen,  Miss 
Reynolds,  and  Sir  Joshua,  the  idol  of  every  com- 


MAYFAIR.  105 

pany,  some  others  persons  of  high  rank  and  less 
wit,  and  your  humble  servant,  —  a  party  that 
would  not  have  disgraced  the  table  of  Laelius,  or 
of  Atticus." 

Hay  Hill  is  interesting  as  being  the  spot  where 
a  skirmish  took  place  between  the  rebels  and  the 
royal  forces,  during  Sir  Thomas  Wyatt's  insurrec- 
tion in  1554.  Here,  after  his  execution,  the  head 
of  Sir  Thomas  was  exposed  on  the  common  gibbet, 
three  of  his  most  dangerous  associates  being  hung 
in  chains  on  the  same  spot.  From  Hay  Hill  we 
pass  into  Grafton  Street,  where  Charles  James 
Fox  resided  when  secretary  of  state  for  foreign 
affairs  in  1782,  and  thence  return  to  Bond  Street, 
to  the  east  of  which  we  will  point  out  a  few  spots 
worthy  of  notice. 

In  Conduit  Street,  a  few  yards  from  Bond  Street, 
is  a  small  chapel  dedicated  to  the  Holy  Trinity,  to 
which  a  peculiar  interest  attaches  itself.  When 
James  the  Second  sought  to  seduce  his  subjects, 
and  more  especially  the  army,  to  embrace  the 
Roman  Catholic  religion,  he  caused  a  large  wooden 
chapel  to  be  erected,  movable  at  will,  which  was 
wheeled  to  Hounslow  Heath,  where  his  army  was 
then  lying,  and  occasionally  moved  from  one  part 
of  the  camp  to  the  other.  When  James  was  sub- 
sequently compelled  to  fly  the  kingdom,  this  chapel 
was  brought  back  to  London,  and  placed  in  what 
was  then  fields,  where  it  remained  till  1716,  when 
the  present  Trinity  Chapel  was  erected  on  its  site. 


106  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

In  1772,  Boswell  mentions  Doctor  Johnson  drink- 
ing tea  with  him  at  his  lodgings  in  Conduit  Street. 
From  Conduit  Street  a  narrow  passage  leads 
us  into  Saville  Row ;  here  Henrietta,  Countess  of 
Suffolk,  the  celebrated  mistress  of  George  the 
Second,  lived  after  the  death  of  her  royal  lover ; 
here  the  well-known  Betty  Germaine  was  residing 
in  1741  ;  and  here  Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan 
breathed  his  last.  At  the  north  end  of  Saville 
Row  is  Uxbridge  House,  the  work  of  Leoni,  for- 
merly called  Queensberry  House,  from  having  been 
the  residence  of  Charles,  third  Duke  of  Queens- 
berry,  and  his  beautiful  duchess,  Katherine  Hyde, 
the  "  Kitty "  of  Prior,  and  rendered  still  more 
celebrated  by  the  verse  of  Pope  : 

"  If  Queensberry  to  strip  there's  no  compelling, 
'  Tis  from  a  handmaid  we  must  paint  a  Helen." 

It  was  here  that  Gay  was  domesticated  and 
petted  by  his  affectionate  patrons,  the  Duke  and 
Duchess  of  Queensberry,  and  in  this  house  he 
died.  To  Pope  he  writes,  about  two  years  before 
his  death :  "  My  melancholy  increases,  and  every 
hour  threatens  me  with  some  return  of  my  dis- 
temper. Not  the  divine  looks,  the  kind  favours 
and  expressions  of  the  divine  duchess,  nor  the 
inexpressible  goodness  of  the  duke,  can  in  the 
least  cheer  me.  The  drawing-room  no  more  re- 
ceives light  from  these  two  stars ;  there  is  now, 
what  Milton  says  is  in  hell,  'darkness  visible.' 


MAYFAIR.  107 

Oh,  that  I  had  never  known  what  a  court  was ! " 
How  beautifully  has  Pope  done  justice  to  the 
affectionate  friendship  of  the  Duchess  of  Queens- 
berry  ! 

"  Blest  be  the  great,  for  those  they  take  away, 
And  those  they  left  me,  for  they  left  me  Gay ; 
Left  me  to  see  neglected  genius  bloom, 
Neglected  die,  and  tell  it  on  his  tomb : 
Of  all  thy  blameless  life  the  sole  return, 
My  verse,  and  Queensberry  weeping  o'er  thy  urn  !  " 

In  Cork  Street,  which  runs  parallel  with  Saville 
Row,  died  the  gifted  and  amiable  Doctor  Arbuth- 
not,  the  courtly  physician  of  Queen  Anne,  and 
the  friend  of  Pope,  Gay,  Bolingbroke,  and  Swift ; 
and  in  this  street,  also,  the  well-known  General 
Wade  had  a  house,  which  was  designed  by  Lord 
Burlington.  It  was  wittily  said  of  it,  that  it  was 
too  small  to  live  in,  and  too  large  to  append  to 
a  watch-ribbon ;  indeed,  so  inconvenient  was  its 
interior,  and  so  fantastic  its  exterior,  that  Lord 
Chesterfield  observed,  "  Since  the  general  could 
not  live  in  it,  he  had  better  hire  the  opposite 
house  in  order  to  look  at  it."  No  vestige  of  it 
now  remains.  In  Cork  Street  Doctor  Johnson 
was  a  frequent  visitor  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Dia- 
mond, an  apothecary.  About  the  year  1752,  he 
used  to  dine  there  nearly  every  Sunday,  accom- 
panied by  his  blind  prot6g6e,  Mrs.  Williams,  the 
poetess. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

ST.  JAMES'S  STREET. 

St.  James's  Street  — Clubs  — Colonel  Blood  — Cocoa  Tree  Tav- 
ern —  Thatched  House  —  Death  of  Gibbon  —  Byron. 

ST.  JAMES'S  STREET,  styled  in  1670  the  "Long 
Street,"  appears  to  have  grown  into  a  regular 
street  between  the  last  days  of  the  Protectorate 
and  the  early  part  of  the  reign  of  Charles  the 
Second ;  and,  it  is  almost  needless  to  add,  derived 
its  name  from  the  neighbouring  palace  of  St. 
James's.  It  has  continued,  almost  from  the  days 
of  the  merry  monarch  to  the  present  time,  to  be 
the  nucleus  of  fashionable  society,  and  the  loung- 
ing-place  of  the  witty  and  the  gay.  In  the  days 
of  Queen  Anne,  it  was  scarcely  less  celebrated 
for  the  gifted  society  which  frequented  its  exclu- 
sive chocolate-houses,  than  it  is  at  the  present 
time  for  the  fashionable  clubs  which  are  its  prin- 
cipal characteristics ;  the  latter,  unfortunately, 
preserving  the  worst  qualities  which  distinguished 
the  society  of  the  last  century,  without  either  the 
dignity  of  its  talent  or  the  fascination  of  its  wit. 

It  is  rather  remarkable  that  two  of  the  most 
fashionable  clubs  of  our  own  time  —  the  "  Cocoa 

108 


ST.   JAMES'S  STREET.  1 09 

Tree  "  and  "  White's  "  —  should  have  sprung  from 
the  "  Cocoa  Tree  Tavern  "  and  "  White's  Choco- 
late House  "  of  the  reign  of  Queen  Anne.  The 
former  —  the  favourite  resort  of  George  the 
Fourth  when  Prince  of  Wales  —  has  only  ceased 
to  exist  within  the  last  few  years,  while  White's 
has  recently  acquired  a  second  youth.  Even  as 
late  as  1745,  we  find,  by  the  correspondence  of 
the  day,  that  the  latter  still  continued  to  be  called 
"  White's  Chocolate  House."  '  Could  we  fortu- 
nately obtain  proper  materials,  there  would  be  no 
social  history  more  curious  or  more  amusing  than 
that  of  White's  Club,  from  the  days  of  Addison  and 
Swift,  to  those  of  Lord  Alvanley  and  Brummel. 

The  first  event  of  any  interest  connected  with 
St.  James's  Street  is  the  seizure  of  the  Duke  of 
Ormond's  person  by  the  notorious  Colonel  Blood, 
on  the  night  of  the  6th  of  December,  1670.  The 
duke,  when  Lord  Lieutenant  of  Ireland,  had  exe- 
cuted some  of  Blood's  accomplices,  who  had  been 
engaged  in  a  treasonable  design  of  surprising 
Dublin  Castle,  and,  in  revenge  for  this  act,  Blood 
expressed  his  determination  to  seize  the  duke's 
person,  and  hang  him  at  Tyburn.  Accordingly, 
on  a  dark  night,  —  as  the  duke  was  returning 
from  an  entertainment  in  the  city,  and  was  passing 
the  bottom  of  St.  James's  Street,  at  the  end  of 

1  A  letter  from  Doctor  Newton  to  George  Selwyn,  dated  10 
December,  1745,  is  addressed  to  him  at  "White's  Chocolate 
House,  St.  James's,  London." 


110  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

which,  facing  the  palace,  stood  Berkshire,  after- 
ward Cleveland  House,  where  he  then  resided,  — 
the  door  of  his  coach  was  opened,  and  he  was 
dragged  out  by  Blood  and  five  of  his  associates, 
and  mounted  on  horseback  behind  one  of  the 
party.  The  duke,  as  usual,  was  attended  by  six 
footmen.  It  was  the  general  custom  of  the  time 
for  these  persons  to  hang  behind  the  coach  of 
their  master,  but  his  Grace,  willing  to  spare  his 
horses  so  great  an  additional  weight,  had  caused 
iron  spikes  to  be  driven  behind  the  cumbrous 
vehicle,  in  order  to  prevent  his  domestics  getting 
up ;  a  practice  which,  notwithstanding  the  present 
attempt  to  assassinate  him,  he  continued  to  the 
day  of  his  death.  The  duke's  footmen,  therefore, 
were  in  the  habit  of  attending  him,  three  by  three, 
on  each  side  of  the  street ;  but  on  the  present 
occasion  they  were  accidentally  some  distance 
off  when  Blood  and  his  associates  made  their 
appearance. 

In  the  meantime  the  latter,  having  carefully 
bound  the  duke  to  their  companion,  hurried  him 
up  St.  James's  Street  in  the  direction  of  Tyburn ; 
Blood,  it  is  said,  riding  on  before  for  the  purpose 
of  adjusting  the  rope  to  the  gallows.  They  had 
proceeded  somewhat  farther  than  the  present 
Devonshire  House,  when  the  duke  contrived  to 
get  one  of  his  feet  under  that  of  his  companion, 
and,  though  sixty  years  of  age,  succeeded  in  un- 
horsing him.  They  both  fell  in  the  mud,  and  had 


ST.   JAMES'S  STREET.  Ill 

continued  struggling  on  the  ground  for  some  sec- 
onds, when  the  duke's  servants,  who  had  been 
alarmed  by  the  outcries  of  the  coachman,  fortu- 
nately made  their  appearance.  The  ruffian  then 
disengaged  himself,  and,  having  fired  two  pistols 
at  the  duke,  which  providentially  missed  their  aim, 
the  whole  party  rode  off  as  fast  as  they  could. 
When  the  duke's  servants  reached  the  spot,  his 
Grace  was  so  exhausted  by  the  struggle  as  to  be 
unable  to  speak,  and  so  dark  was  the  night  that 
it  was  only  from  the  light  reflected  from  the 
diamonds  in  his  star  that  they  were  enabled  to 
discover  the  spot  where  he  lay. 

There  is  said  to  be  honour  among  thieves, 
and,  consequently,  notwithstanding  that  a  thou- 
sand pounds  —  a  vast  sum  in  the  days  of  Charles 
the  Second  —  was  offered  for  the  discovery  of 
the  perpetrators  of  this  impudent  outrage,  Blood 
remained,  if  not  without  suspicion,  at  least  unmo- 
lested. It  was  not  till  the  following  year,  when 
he  was  captured  in  his  famous  attempt  to  seize 
the  crown  jewels,  that  it  became  generally  known 
that  he  was  the  instigator  of  the  attempt  on  the 
life  of  the  Duke  of  Ormond.  He  was  immedi- 
ately conducted  to  the  Tower,  where,  with  that 
calm  intrepidity  which  was  the  constitutional  char- 
acteristic of  this  extraordinary  man,  he  patiently 
and  sullenly  awaited  the  ignominious  death  which 
he  could  not  fail  to  expect  would  be  the  inevitable 
consequence  of  his  crime. 


112  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

To  the  astonishment,  however,  of  the  world, 
Charles  the  Second  expressed  his  determination 
of  examining  the  daring  culprit  in  person  before 
his  Privy  Council.  Blood,  who  seems  to  have  been 
intimately  acquainted  with  the  character  and  fail- 
ings of  his  sovereign,  took  every  advantage  of  this 
unexpected  piece  of  good  fortune  ;  and,  indeed,  his 
conduct  while  under  examination  was  a  masterpiece 
of  cunning.  He  excited  the  admiration  of  the  king 
by  his  indomitable  courage ;  he  charmed  him  with 
the  readiness  of  his  wit,  and  ingeniously  flattered 
him  by  the  high  respect  which  he  expressed  per- 
sonally for  his  sovereign.  The  interview,  indeed, 
was  altogether  a  remarkable  one.  He  candidly 
told  the  king,  who  put  several  questions  to  him 
in  person,  that  on  one  occasion  he  had  been 
engaged  to  kill  his  Majesty,  and  with  this  pur- 
pose had  concealed  himself,  with  a  loaded  carbine, 
in  some  reeds  by  the  side  of  the  Thames  above 
Battersea,  where  Charles  was  accustomed  to  bathe ; 
but  he  added  that  he  was  struck  with  so  great 
an  awe  at  the  sight  of  majesty,  that  his  heart 
failed  him,  and  he  relinquished  the  design. 

He  candidly  confessed  that  he  was  author  of 
the  outrage  on  the  Duke  of  Ormond ;  but  when 
asked  to  name  his  associates,  "  I  would  never," 
he  said,  "  betray  a  friend's  life,  nor  be  guilty  of 
a  falsehood  to  save  my  own."  When  asked  what 
provocation  he  could  have  received  from  the  duke, 
—  his  Grace,  he  said,  had  deprived  him  of  his 


ST.   JAMES'S  STREET.  113 

estate,  and  had  executed  some  of  his  friends  ;  and 
he  added  that  he  belonged  to  a  gang  of  ruffians 
as  desperate  as  himself,  who  had  bound  themselves 
by  the  most  solemn  oaths  to  revenge  the  death  of 
any  of  their  associates.  When  asked  by  Charles 
how  he  could  have  the  audacity  to  make  his 
attempt  on  the  crown  jewels,  "  My  father,"  said 
Blood,  "lost  a  good  estate  for  the  crown,  and  I 
considered  it  no  crime  to  recover  it  by  the  crown." 
"  What,"  said  the  king,  "  if  I  should  give  you  your 
life?"  "I  shall  endeavour,"  replied  Blood,  "to 
deserve  it." 

Charles  was  evidently  predisposed  to  pardon, 
but  the  Duke  of  Ormond  was  too  powerful  a 
subject  not  to  be  consulted  on  the  occasion,  and 
how  could  he  be  expected  to  overlook  either  the 
insolent  outrage,  or  the  daring  attempt  on  his  life  ? 
His  reply,  however,  was  worthy  of  the  man.  "  If 
your  Majesty,"  he  said,  "forgive  his  attempt  on 
the  crown,  how  can  I  withhold  my  forgiveness  at 
his  attempt  on  my  life  ? "  Blood  was  accordingly 
not  only  pardoned,  but  became  even  a  favourite 
at  court,  had  a  pension  conferred  on  him,  and  was 
subsequently  the  means  of  screening  from  the 
hands  of  justice  more  than  one  of  his  associates 
in  treason  and  in  crime. 

The  Cocoa  Tree  Tavern,  the  lounging-place  of 
the  wits,  the  dandies,  and  adventurers  of  the  days 
of  Queen  Anne,  stood  apparently  on  the  site  of 
the  present  building,  which  still  bears  its  name, 


114  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

No.  64,  on  the  west  side  of  St.  James's  Street. 
Addison  mentions  it  as  a  place  of  fashionable 
resort  as  early  as  1710.  "Sometimes,"  he  says, 
"  I  am  seen  thrusting  my  head  into  a  round  of 
politicians  at  Wills's,  and  listening  with  great  atten- 
tion to  the  narratives  that  are  made  in  those  little 
circular  audiences.  Sometimes  I  smoke  a  pipe  at 
Childs's,  and  while  I  seem  attentive  to  nothing  but 
the  postman  [newspaper],  overhear  the  conver- 
sation of  every  table  in  the  room.  I  appear  on 
Sunday  nights  at  St.  James's  Coffee-house,  and 
sometimes  join  the  little  committee  of  politics  in 
the  inner  room,  as  one  who  comes  there  to  hear 
and  improve.  My  face  is  likewise  known  at  the 
Grecian,  the  Cocoa  Tree,  and  in  the  theatres  both 
of  Drury  Lane  and  the  Haymarket.  I  have  been 
taken  for  a  merchant  upon  the  Exchange  for  above 
these  ten  years,  and  sometimes  pass  for  a  Jew  in 
the  assembly  of  stock-jobbers  at  Jonathan's.  In 
short,  whenever  I  see  a  cluster  of  people,  I  always 
mix  with  them,  though  I  never  open  my  lips  but 
in  my  own  club." 

It  may  be  interesting,  perhaps,  to  point  the  site 
of  the  different  places  here  mentioned.  Childs's 
Coffee-house,  then  the  resort  of  the  clergy,  was  in 
St.  Paul's  Churchyard  ;  St.  James's  stood  at  the 
bottom  of  St.  James's  Street,  the  corner  house  on 
the  west  side,  opposite  the  palace ;  the  Grecian 
stood  in  Devereux  Court,  outside  Temple  Bar, 
and  continued  to  be  styled  the  Grecian  Coffee- 


ST.   JAMES'S  STREET.  115 

house  till  within  the  last  year  or  two,  when  it 
was  converted  into  sets  of  hired  chambers ;  and 
Jonathan's,  the  resort  of  the  merchants  and  stock- 
jobbers, was  in  Change  Alley. 

The  Cocoa  Tree  was  the  resort  of  Swift  during 
his  occasional  visits  to  London,  after  he  had  be- 
come Dean  of  St.  Patrick's.  Prior,  the  poet, 
writes  to  him  on  the  3<Dth  of  July,  1717  :  "I  have 
been  made  to  believe  that  we  may  see  your 
reverend  person  this  summer  in  England ;  if  so, 
I  shall  be  glad  to  meet  you  at  any  place ;  but 
when  you  come  to  London,  do  not  go  to  the 
Cocoa  Tree  (as  you  sent  your  letter),  but  come 
immediately  to  Duke  Street,  where  you  shall  find 
a  bed,  a  book,  and  a  candle ;  so  pray  think  of 
sojourning  nowhere  else." 

Gibbon,  the  historian,  was  a  member  of  the 
Cocoa  Tree  after  it  had  been  converted  into  a 
fashionable  club.  On  the  24th  of  November, 
1762,  he  inserts  in  his  private  journal:  "I  dined 
at  the  Cocoa  Tree  with  Holt.  We  went  thence 
to  the  play  (the  '  Spanish  Friar '),  and  when  it 
was  over,  returned  to  the  Cocoa  Tree.  That 
respectable  body,  of  which  I  have  the  honour  of 
being  a  member,  affords  every  evening  a  sight 
truly  English.  Twenty  or  thirty,  perhaps,  of  the 
first  men  in  the  kingdom,  in  point  of  fashion  and 
fortune,  supping  at  little  tables  covered  with  a 
napkin,  in  the  middle  of  a  coffee-room,  upon  a  bit 
of  cold  meat  or  a  sandwich,  and  drinking  a  glass 


116  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

of  punch.  At  present,  we  are  full  of  king's  coun- 
sellors and  lords  of  the  bedchamber ;  who,  having 
jumped  into  the  ministry,  make  a  very  singular 
medley  of  their  old  principles  and  language  with 
their  modern  ones."  Gibbon  was  also  a  member 
of  White's,  Boodle's,  and  Almack's,  to  the  latter  of 
which  he  gave  the  preference.  On  the  24th  of 
June,  1776,  he  writes  from  Almack's:  "Town 
grows  empty,  and  this  house,  where  I  have  passed 
many  agreeable  hours,  is  the  only  place  which 
still  invites  the  flower  of  the  English  youth.  The 
style  of  living,  though  somewhat  expensive,  is  ex- 
ceedingly pleasant,  and,  notwithstanding  the  rage 
of  play,  I  have  found  more  entertaining,  and  even 
rational  society  here,  than  in  any  other  club  to 
which  I  belong." 

The  Cocoa  Tree  is  connected  with  another 
illustrious  name,  that  of  Lord  Byron,  who  was 
also  a  member  of  the  club.  To  Mr.  Moore  he 
writes  on  the  Qth  of  April,  1814 :  "  I  am  but  just 
returned  to  town,  from  which  you  may  infer  that 
I  have  been  out  of  it ;  and  I  have  been  boxing,  for 
exercise,  with  Jackson  for  this  last  month  daily. 
I  have  also  been  drinking,  and,  on  one  occasion, 
with  three  other  friends  at  the  Cocoa  Tree,  from 
six  till  four,  yea,  until  five  in  the  matin.  We 
clareted  and  champagned  till  two,  then  supped, 
and  finished  with  a  kind  of  regency  punch  com- 
posed of  Madeira,  brandy,  and  green  tea,  no  real 
water  being  admitted  therein.  There  was  a  night 


ST.   JAMES'S  STREET.  117 

for  you !  without  once  quitting  the  table  except 
to  ambulate  home,  which  I  did  alone,  and  in  utter 
contempt  of  a  hackney-coach  and  my  own  vis, 
both  of  which  were  deemed  necessary  for  our 
conveyance.  And  so,  —  I  am  very  well,  and  they 
say  it  will  hurt  my  constitution."  Lord  Byron 
was  at  this  time  residing  at  the  Albany  in  Picca- 
dilly. The  rooms  in  which  Gibbon  moralised,  and 
Lord  Byron  debauched,  are  now  converted  into 
a  gunsmith's  shop  below,  and,  I  believe,  billiard- 
tables  and  French  hazard  above. 

The  Thatched  House,  another  celebrated  place 
of  entertainment  in  the  days  of  Queen  Anne, 
stood  somewhat  lower  down,  on  a  part  of  the 
ground  on  which  the  Conservative  Club  now 
stands.  Swift  writes  to  Stella  on  the  2Oth  of 
December,  1711  :  "I  dined,  you  know,  with  our 
society,  and  that  odious  secretary  [Lord  Boling- 
broke]  would  make  me  president  next  week  ;  so 
I  must  entertain  them  this  day  se'night  at  the 
Thatched  House  Tavern,  where  we  dined  to-day ; 
it  will  cost  me  five  or  six  pounds,  yet  the  secre- 
tary says  he  will  give  me  wine."  Again  Swift 
writes  on  the  27th  of  the  same  month  :  "I  enter- 
tained our  society  at  the  Thatched  House  Tavern 
to-day  at  dinner ;  but  Brother  Bathurst  sent  for 
wine,  the  house  affording  none."  The  "society," 
alluded  to  by  Swift,  consisted  of  a  club  compris- 
ing the  most  eminent  men  in  rank,  literature,  and 
politics,  at  the  commencement  of  the  last  century. 


Il8  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

In  the  Thatched  House  Tavern,  the  celebrated 
literary  and  dilettanti  clubs  held  for  many  years 
their  meetings.  Both  of  these  clubs  were  origi- 
nally founded  at  the  Turk's  Head  Tavern,  in 
Gerard  Street,  Soho,  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  hav- 
ing had  the  merit  of  being  the  proposer  and  prin- 
cipal promoter  of  both.  The  portraits  of  several 
members  of  the  latter  club,  more  than  one  of 
them  the  work  of  Sir  Joshua,  are  still  preserved 
in  the  present  Thatched  House  Tavern  in  St. 
James's  Street. 

On  the  5th  of  April,  1684,  died  at  his  house  in 
St.  James's  Street,  William,  Lord  Brounker,  whom 
Bishop  Burnet  styles  a  "  profound  mathematician," 
but  who  is  now  principally  remembered  from  hav- 
ing been  the  first  president  of  the  Royal  Society. 
According  to  Anthony  Wood,  he  did  much  honour 
to  the  society,  and  advanced  it  by  his  learning 
and  experience ;  but  Evelyn,  who  was  probably 
better  acquainted  with  him,  observes :  "  He  was 
noted  for  a  hard,  covetous,  vicious  man,  though 
for  his  worldly  craft,  and  skill  in  gaining,  few 
exceeded  him."  On  the  25th  of  February,  1723, 
the  great  architect,  Sir  Christopher  Wren,  died 
in  St.  James's  Street.  It  was  his  custom  to  fall 
asleep  after  dinner,  and  one  evening,  his  servant, 
observing  that  he  had  slept  longer  than  usual, 
entered  his  apartment  and  found  him  dead  in  his 
chair. 

In   a   house   in    St.   James's   Street,   adjoining 


ST.   JAMES'S  STREET.  119 

Brooke's  Club,  lived,  in  1781,  Charles  James  Fox. 
It  was  the  scene  of  many  of  his  follies  and  dis- 
tresses. Horace  Walpole  writes  to  Marshal  Con- 
way  on  the  3ist  of  May,  1781  :  "I  had  been  to  see 
if  Lady  Ailesbury  was  come  to  town ;  as  I  came 
up  St.  James's  Street  I  saw  a  cart  and  porters 
at  Charles  Fox's  door ;  coppers  and  old  chests  of 
drawers  loading.  In  short,  his  success  at  faro  has 
awakened  his  host  of  creditors ;  but  unless  his 
bank  had  swelled  to  the  size  of  the  Bank  of  Eng- 
land, it  could  not  have  yielded  a  sop  apiece  for 
each.  Epsom,  too,  had  been  unpropitious,  and 
one  creditor  has  actually  seized  and  carried  off 
his  goods,  which  did  not  seem  worth  removing. 
As  I  returned  full  of  this  scene,  whom  should  I 
find  sauntering  by  my  own  door  but  Charles  ?  He 
came  up,  and  talked  to  me  at  the  coach  window 
on  the  Marriage  Bill,  with  as  much  sang-froid  as 
if  he  knew  nothing  of  what  had  happened." 

"  Hark  where  the  voice  of  battle  shouts  from  far, 
The  Jews  and  Macaronis  are  at  war; 
The  Jews  prevail,  and  thundering  from  the  stocks, 
They  seize,  they  bind,  they  circumcise  Charles  Fox." 

St.  James's  Street  witnessed  the  closing  scene 
of  the  great  historian,  Edward  Gibbon,  on  the  i6th 
of  January,  1 794.  The  account  which  Lord  Shef- 
field gives  of  the  last  moments  of  his  illustrious 
friend  is  deeply  interesting.  "  After  I  left  him  on 
Tuesday  afternoon,  he  saw  some  company,  Lady 


120  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

Lucan  and  Lady  Spenser,  and  thought  himself  well 
enough  at  night  to  omit  the  opium  draught  which 
he  had  been  used  to  take  for  some  time.  He  slept 
very  indifferently ;  before  nine  the  next  morning 
he  rose,  but  could  not  eat  his  breakfast.  However, 
he  appeared  tolerably  well,  yet  complained  at 
times  of  a  pain  in  his  stomach.  At  one  o'clock 
he  received  a  visit  of  an  hour  from  Madame  de 
Silva ;  and  at  three,  his  friend,  Mr.  Crawford,  of 
Auchinames  (whom  he  always  mentioned  with 
particular  regard),  called,  and  stayed  with  him  till 
past  five  o'clock.  They  talked,  as  usual,  on  various 
subjects  ;  and  twenty  hours  before  his  death  Mr. 
Gibbon  happened  to  fall  into  a  conversation,  not 
uncommon  with  him,  on  the  probable  duration  of 
his  life.  He  said  that  he  thought  himself  a  good 
life  for  ten,  twelve,  or  perhaps  twenty  years. 
About  six,  he  ate  the  wing  of  a  chicken,  and 
drank  three  glasses  of  Madeira.  After  dinner,  he 
became  very  uneasy  and  impatient ;  complained  a 
good  deal,  and  appeared  so  weak  that  his  servant 
was  alarmed.  Mr.  Gibbon  had  sent  to  his  friend 
and  relation,  Mr.  Robert  Darell,  whose  house  was 
not  far  distant,  desiring  to  see  him,  and  adding 
that  he  had  something  particular  to  say.  But, 
unfortunately,  this  desired  interview  never  took 
place. 

"  During  the  evening  he  complained  much  of 
his  stomach  and  of  a  disposition  to  vomit.  Soon 
after  nine  he  took  his  opium  draught,  and  went 


ST.   JAMES'S  STREET.  121 

to  bed.  About  ten  he  complained  of  much  pain, 
and  desired  that  warm  napkins  might  be  applied 
to  his  stomach.  He  almost  incessantly  expressed 
a  sense  of  pain  till  about  four  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing, when  he  said  he  found  his  stomach  much 
easier.  About  seven  the  servant  asked  whether 
he  should  send  for  Mr.  Farquhar  ?  He  answered 
no ;  that  he  was  as  well  as  he  had  been  the  day 
before.  About  half-past  eight  he  got  out  of  bed, 
and  said  he  was  plus  adroit  than  he  had  been 
for  three  months  past,  and  got  into  bed  again, 
without  assistance,  better  than  usual.  About 
nine  he  said  that  he  would  rise.  The  servant, 
however,  persuaded  him  to  remain  in  bed  till  Mr. 
Farquhar,  who  was  expected  at  eleven,  should 
come.  Till  about  that  hour  he  spoke  with  great 
facility.  Mr.  Farquhar  came  at  the  time  appointed, 
and  he  was  then  visibly  dying.  When  the  valet 
de  chambre,  after  attending  Mr.  Farquhar  out  of 
the  room,  returned,  Mr.  Gibbon  said,  '  Pourquoi 
est  ce  que  vous  me  quittez  f '  This  was  about 
half-past  eleven.  At  twelve  he  drank  some  brandy 
and  water  from  a  teapot,  and  desired  his  favourite 
servant  to  stay  with  him.  These  were  the  last 
words  he  pronounced  articulately.  To  the  last  he 
preserved  his  senses  ;  and  when  he  could  no  longer 
speak,  his  servant  having  asked  a  question,  he 
made  a  sign  to  show  that  he  understood  him.  He 
was  quite  tranquil,  and  did  not  stir,  his  eyes  half 
shut.  About  a  quarter  before  one  he  ceased  to 


122  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

breathe.  The  valet  de  chambre  observed  that  Mr. 
Gibbon  did  not,  at  any  time,  show  the  least  sign 
of  alarm  or  apprehension  of  death ;  and  it  does 
not  appear  that  he  ever  thought  himself  in  danger, 
unless  his  desire  to  speak  to  Mr.  Darell  may  be 
considered  in  that  light." 

Lord  Sheffield  hastened  to  the  bedside  of  his 
dying  friend,  but,  on  his  arrival  in  St.  James's 
Street,  he  found  that  the  great  historian  had  ceased 
to  exist.  He  caused  the  remains  of  his  friend  to 
be  interred  in  the  burial-place  of  his  family  at 
Sheffield  Place  in  Sussex.  The  house  in  which 
Gibbon  breathed  his  last  was  No.  76  St.  James's 
Street,  near  the  corner  of  Little  St.  James's  Street, 
and  was  pulled  down  to  make  room  for  the  present 
Conservative  Club. 

No.  62,  higher  up  the  street  (now  occupied  by 
Lauriere,  the  jeweller),  was,  in  the  last  century, 
well  known  as  Betty's  fruit-shop,  where  men  of 
wit  and  fashion  met  to  discuss  the  scandal  or  poli- 
tics of  the  day.  It  would  seem  that  the  old  lady 
herself  had  some  reputation  for  saying  good  things  ; 
at  least,  Horace  Walpole  writes  to  George  Selwyn 
on  the  2d  of  December,  1765  :  "When  you  have  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  awake,  and  to  spare,  I  wish  you 
would  bestow  it  on  me.  There  are  no  such  things 
as  bons  mots  here  to  send  you,  and  I  cannot  hope 
that  you  will  send  me  your  own ;  next  to  them  I 
should  like  Charles  Townshend's,  but  I  don't  de- 
sire Betty's."  Walpole,  elsewhere  describing  a 


ST.   JAMES'S  STREET.  123 

party  of  pleasure  at  Vauxhall,  mentions  that  Betty 
accompanied  them  to  the  gardens  with  baskets  of 
strawberries  and  cherries. 

With  a  name  scarcely  less  illustrious  than  that 
of  Gibbon  we  will  conclude  our  notices  of  St. 
James's  Street.  Lord  Byron,  at  the  time  when 
the  publication  of  his  "  English  Bards  and  Scotch 
Reviewers  "  rendered  his  name  for  the  first  time 
conspicuous  in  the  literary  history  of  his  country, 
resided  at  No.  8  in  this  street.  It  was  from  this 
house  that  the  proud  and  misanthropic  poet  de- 
parted, on  a  melancholy  and  well-known  occasion, 
to  take  his  seat  in  the  House  of  Lords  as  a  peer 
of  the  realm,  "  in  a  state,"  says  Moore,  "  more  lone 
and  unfriended,  perhaps,  than  any  youth  of  his 
high  station  had  ever  before  been  reduced  to  on 
such  an  occasion,  not  having  a  single  individual 
of  his  own  class  either  to  take  him  by  the  hand 
as  friend,  or  acknowledge  him  as  acquaintance." 
Nothing  can  be  more  strikingly  dramatic  than  the 
account  which  his  relative,  Mr.  Dallas,  gives  of 
this  painful  passage  in  the  life  of  the  great  poet. 
"  I  was  passing  down  St.  James's  Street,"  he  says, 
"with  no  intention  of  calling,  when  I  saw  his 
chariot  at  the  door,  and  went  in.  His  counte- 
nance, paler  than  usual,  showed  that  his  mind  was 
agitated,  and  that  he  was  thinking  of  the  noble- 
man '  to  whom  he  had  once  looked  for  a  hand  and 
countenance  in  his  introduction  to  the  House.  He 
1  His  relative,  the  late  Earl  of  Carlisle. 


124  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

said  to  me,  '  I  am  glad  you  happened  to  come  in  ; 
I  am  going  to  take  my  seat,  perhaps  you  will  go 
with  me.'  I  expressed  my  readiness  to  attend 
him,  while,  at  the  same  time,  I  concealed  the  shock 
I  felt  on  thinking  that  this  young  man,  who  by 
birth,  fortune,  and  talent  stood  high  in  life,  should 
have  lived  so  unconnected  and  neglected  by  per- 
sons of  his  own  rank  that  there  was  not  a  single 
member  of  the  senate  to  which  he  belonged  to 
whom  he  would  or  could  apply  to  introduce  him 
in  a  manner  becoming  his  birth ;  I  saw  that  he 
felt  the  situation,  and  I  fully  partook  of  his  indig- 
nation." The  subsequent  scene  in  the  House  of 
Lords  is  graphically  described  by  Dallas,  but  is 
too  long  for  insertion.  "We  returned  to  St. 
James's  Street,"  he  says,  "  but  he  did  not  recover 
his  spirits." 


CHAPTER   V. 

THE   NEIGHBOURHOOD  OF  ST.  JAMES'S    STREET. 

Bennet  Street  —  Arlington  Street  —  Park  Place  —  St.  James's 
Place  —  Cleveland  Row  —  King  Street  —  Almack's  —  Little 
Ryder  Street— Bury  Street. 

THE  streets  diverging  from  St.  James's  Street 
are  all  of  them  more  or  less  associated  with  some 
person  of  celebrity  or  some  event  of  interest.  As 
we  descend  toward  St.  James's  Palace,  the  first 
opening  to  the  right  is  Bennet  Street,  a  small 
avenue  leading  to  Arlington  Street.  At  No.  4 
Bennet  Street,  in  the  apartments  which  he  occu- 
pied on  the  first  floor,  Lord  Byron  composed  the 
"  Giaour,"  the  "  Bride  of  Abydos,"  and  the  "  Cor- 
sair." He  resided  here  during  a  great  part  of 
the  years  of  1813  and  1814,  and  sometimes  in  his 
letters  amuses  himself  with  playfully  styling  it 
Benedictine  Street. 

Let  us  pass  on  to  Arlington  Street,  so  called 
from  the  Bennets,  Earls  of  Arlington,  which,  con- 
sidering how  small  a  number  of  houses  it  contains, 
has  been  inhabited  by  a  greater  number  of  persons 
of  note  and  genius  than  perhaps  any  other  street 
of  the  same  size  in  London.  As  early  as  the 

"5 


126  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

reign  of  Queen  Anne  we  find  it  containing  the 
residences  of  several  persons  of  rank.  Here,  in 
1708,  were  residing  the  Duke  of  Richmond,  Lord 
Brook,  Lord  Cholmondley,  Lord  Guildford,  and 
Lord  Kingston.  Here,  before  her  marriage,  in 
the  pride  of  youth,  of  beauty,  and  of  genius,  re- 
sided Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu ;  here,  in 
1 739,  lived  the  celebrated  William  Pulteney,  after- 
ward Earl  of  Bath,  and  to  this  street,  three  years 
afterward,  retired  his  great  rival,  Sir  Robert  Wai- 
pole,  when  his  famous  defeat  in  the  House  of 
Commons  terminated  his  long  political  career.  It 
was  here  that  the  great  minister  breathed  his  last. 
In  a  small  house,  adjoining  that  of  his  father, 
his  scarcely  less  celebrated  son,  Horace  Walpole, 
resided  for  many  years,  and  from  hence  many  of 
the  most  charming  of  his  letters  are  dated.  To 
Arlington  Street,  when  Prince  of  Wales,  George 
the  Second  retired  to  sulk  with  his  small  court 
after  his  memorable  quarrel  with  his  father ;  and 
here  the  celebrated  Duke  of  Cumberland,  the 
"  Butcher "  of  Culloden,  dined  the  same  day  on 
which  he  died.  Charles  James  Fox  resided  for 
some  time  in  Arlington  Street ;  and  here,  at  the 
house  of  the  Duke  of  Rutland,  lamented  by  every 
one  but  his  creditors,  his  late  Royal  Highness,  the 
Duke  of  York,  breathed  his  last. 

As  we  pass  down  St.  James's  Street,  the  next 
opening  on  the  west  side  is  Park  Place.  At  No. 
9  lived  the  well-known  antiquary,  Sir  William 


NEIGHBOURHOOD  OF  ST.   JAMES'S  STREET.      127 

Musgrave,  and  in  this  street  Hume,  the  histo- 
rian, resided  when  under  secretary  of  state  in 
1769.  We  next  arrive  at  St.  James's  Place,  a 
street  in  which  the  houses  remain  nearly  the  same 
as  they  existed  in  the  days  of  Queen  Anne.  Here 
the  celebrated  Addison  had  a  house,  and  in  this 
street  occasionally  resided  Thomas  Parnell,  the 
poet,  the  friend  and  correspondent  of  Congreve, 
Addison,  and  Steele,  of  Swift,  Pope,  Gay,  and 
Arbuthnot.  Future  chroniclers  of  the  local  asso- 
ciations of  London  will  point  out  the  residence 
of  a  third  poet,  Mr.  Rogers,  and  will  do  honour 
to  the  walls  where  Byron,  Southey,  Wordsworth, 
Coleridge,  and  Campbell  have  been  favoured 
guests,  and  in  which,  at  different  times,  have 
assembled  all  the  wit,  the  beauty,  and  the  talent 
of  the  present  century. 

In  St.  James's  Place,  in  a  house  overlooking 
the  Green  Park,  lived  the  charming  and  beautiful 
Mary  Lepel,  Lady  Hervey,  the  idol  of  her  con- 
temporaries, and  celebrated  in  verse  by  Pope, 
Gay,  Voltaire,  Arbuthnot,  Pulteney,  and  Lord 
Chesterfield  : 

"  Now  Hervey,  fair  of  face,  I  mark  full  well, 
With  thee,  youth's  youngest  daughter,  sweet  Lepel." 

—  Gay. 

Lady  Hervey  writes  from  Ickworth  Park  on  the 
5th  of  April,  1749:  "I  am  preparing  a  dwelling 
that  will  suit  better  with  my  purse,  though  not  so 


128  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

well  with  my  inclination.  I  have  paid  dear  to  make 
that  dwelling  look  as  like  the  country  as  I  can  ; 
but  I  have  been  too  much  used  to  grass  and  green 
trees  to  bear  the  changing  them  for  brick  walls 
and  dust."  Lady  Hervey  could  scarcely  have 
fixed  on  any  spot  in  London  which  had  more  the 
appearance  of  being  in  the  country.  The  house 
in  question  was  afterward  the  residence  of  Lord 
Hastings,  and  is  now  divided  into  two.  At  No.  1 3 
St.  James's  Place  lived  Mrs.  Robinson,  the  actress, 
and  here  also,  in  1756,  resided  the  celebrated  John 
Wilkes.  Lastly,  in  St.  James's  Place  lived  the 
Right  Honourable  Richard  Rigby,  the  jovial  poli- 
tician and  bon-vivant  of  the  last  century ;  whose 
name  is  so  intimately  connected  with*  the  social 
and  convivial  history  of  that  period,  and  will  prob- 
ably long  live  in  the  pages  of  Junius,  Wraxall,  and 
Horace  Walpole. 

If  St.  James's  Place  is  famous  for  having  been 
the  residence  of  the  poets,  Cleveland  Row  (at  the 
bottom  of  St.  James's  Street,  facing  the  palace)  is 
no  less  remarkable  as  having  been  frequented  by 
the  wits.  Here  resided  Colonel  John  Selwyn,  an 
aid-de-camp  of  the  great  Duke  of  Marlborough, 
and  the  father  of  the  memorable  wit,  George 
Selwyn ;  and  it  was  in  his  house  that  the  cele- 
brated personal  encounter  took  place  between  Sir 
Robert  Walpole,  then  prime  minister,  and  Lord 
Townshend,  one  of  the  secretaries  of  state.  The 
particulars  may  be  briefly  related. 


NEIGHBOURHOOD  OF  ST.   JAMES'S  STREET.      129 

During  an  altercation,  in  which  they  were  en- 
gaged, Sir  Robert  exclaimed,  with  considerable 
warmth :  "  My  lord,  for  once,  there  is  no  man's 
sincerity  whom  I  so  much  doubt  as  your  lord- 
ship's." Lord  Townshend,  who  to  many  excellent 
qualities  united  a  fiery  and  uncertain  temperament, 
immediately  seized  the  first  minister  by  the  throat. 
Sir  Robert  grappled  with  his  antagonist  in  return, 
and,  after  a  momentary  struggle,  both  parties 
mutually  relinquished  their  grasp  and  laid  their 
hands  on  their  swords.  Mrs.  Selwyn,  who  was 
present,  ran  out  in  a  fright  to  call  in  the  palace 
guard ;  she  was  prevented,  however,  by  the  cele- 
brated Henry  Pelham,  by  whose  interposition  the 
friends  were  subsequently  reconciled.  According 
to  Wraxall,  Gay  introduced  this  scene  into  the 
"  Beggar's  Opera,"  where  Walpole  and  Townshend 
are  represented  as  Peachum  and  Lockit.  Unfor- 
tunately, however,  for  the  truth  of  this  literary 
anecdote,  I  find  that  the  fracas  between  the  two 
ministers  of  state  did  not  take  place  till  the  year 
1729,  at  which  period  the  "Beggar's  Opera"  had 
had  the  run  of  the  stage  about  a  year. 

It  was  in  the  house  where  this  extraordinary 
scene  occurred,  that  George  Selwyn  resided  for 
some  years,  and  here  he  died,  penitent  and  devout, 
on  the  25th  of  January,  1791.  Close  to  him,  in 
Cleveland  Court,  died,  in  1805,  his  friend  Gilly 
Williams,  another  celebrated  wit  of  the  last  cen- 
tury, whose  correspondence  with  Selwyn,  during 


130  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

more  than  twenty  years,  has  recently  been  given 
to  the  public  ;  and,  lastly,  at  No.  5  Cleveland  Row, 
lived  a  wit  still  more  brilliant,  the  late  lamented 
Theodore  Hook. 

Previous  to  his  great  victory  over  De  Grasse,  in 
1 782,  Lord  Rodney  lived  in  great  distress  in  Cleve- 
land Row.  In  Wraxall's  "  Memoirs  of  His  Own 
Time,"  the  reader  will  find  an  interesting  account 
of  him  at  this  period. 

Cleveland  Row  and  Cleveland  Court  —  the  lat- 
ter a  small  area  at  the  back  —  take  their  names 
from  Cleveland  House,  which  stood  close  by  but 
nearer  the  Green  Park.  It  was  originally  called 
Berkshire  House,  from  being  the  residence  of  the 
Howards,  Earls  of  Berkshire,  and  was  then  of  great 
extent.  After  the  restoration  of  Charles  the  Sec- 
ond, it  was  for  some  time  the  residence  of  the  great 
Earl  of  Clarendon,  but  was  afterward  purchased 
and  presented  by  Charles  the  Second  to  his  beau- 
tiful mistress,  Barbara,  Duchess  of  Cleveland,  and 
was  the  scene  of  many  of  their  revels  and  their 
loves.  A  part  of  the  property  was  sold  by  the 
duchess,  and  converted  into  smaller  houses.  The 
remaining  part,  which  she  kept  herself,  was  after- 
ward the  residence  of  the  Dukes  of  Bridgewater, 
but  has  been  pulled  down  within  the  last  few  years, 
to  make  room  for  the  splendid  mansion  which  has 
been  so  long  projected  by  the  representative  of 
the  Bridgewater  family,  Lord  Ellesmere. 

Passing  up  St.  James's  Street,  on  the  east  side, 


NEIGHBOURHOOD  OF  ST.  JAMES'S  STREET.      131 

are  two  streets,  King  Street  and  Little  Ryder 
Street,  which  deserve  a  passing  notice.  In  King 
Street  are  Almack's  rooms,  which  were  opened, 
in  1765,  by  Almack,  the  proprietor  of  the  once 
fashionable  club  in  Pall  Mall,  which  we  have  seen 
Gibbon  preferring  to  every  other  club  in  London. 
Horace  Walpole  writes  to  the  Earl  of  Hertford  on 
the  1 4th  of  February,  1765  :  "The  new  assembly 
room  at  Almack's  was  opened  the  night  before 
last,  and  they  say  is  very  magnificent,  but  it  was 
empty ;  half  the  town  is  ill  with  colds,  and  many 
were  afraid  to  go,  as  the  house  is  scarcely  built 
yet.  Almack  advertised  that  it  was  built  with  hot 
bricks  and  boiling  water ;  think  what  a  rage  there 
must  be  for  public  places,  if  this  notice,  instead 
of  terrifying,  could  draw  anybody  thither.  They 
tell  me  the  ceilings  were  dripping  with  wet,  —  but 
can  you  believe  me  when  I  tell  you  the  Duke  of 
Cumberland  was  there  ?  Nay,  he  had  had  a  levee 
in  the  morning,  and  went  to  the  opera  before  the 
assembly !  There  is  a  vast  flight  of  steps,  and  he 
was  forced  to  rest  two  or  three  times.  If  he  died 
of  it,  it  will  sound  very  silly,  when  Hercules  or 
Theseus  ask  him  what  he  died  of,  to  reply,  'I 
caught  my  death  on  a  damp  staircase  at  a  new 
club-room.' " 

Somewhat  higher  up  St.  James's  Street  is  Little 
Ryder  Street,  where  Swift  was  residing  in  Decem- 
ber, 1712.  From  hence  we  pass  into  Bury  Street, 
where  the  unfortunate  Letitia  Pilkington  informs 


132  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

us  that  she  lodged  in  the  time  of  her  necessity. 
Swift  also  resided  here  in  1710,  and  from  this 
street  many  of  the  most  interesting  of  his  letters 
to  Stella  are  dated.  He  writes  to  her  on  the  iQth 
of  September,  1710:  "To-morrow  I  change  my 
lodgings  in  Pall  Mall  for  one  in  Bury  Street,  where 
I  suppose  I  shall  continue  while  in  London."  And 
again  he  writes  to  her  on  the  29th  of  the  month : 
"  I  lodge  in  Bury  Street,  where  I  removed  a  week 
ago ;  I  have  the  first  floor,  a  dining-room,  and  bed- 
chamber, at  eight  shillings  a  week,  plaguy  dear, 
but  I  spend  nothing  for  eating,  never  go  to  a  tav- 
ern, and  very  seldom  in  a  coach ;  yet  after  all  it 
will  be  expensive." 

It  is  a  pleasure  to  me  to  point  out  that  Bury 
Street  has  long  been  the  temporary  residence  of 
the  author  of  the  "  Irish  Melodies  "  and  of  "  Lalla 
Rookh,"  during  his  periodical  visits  to  London. 
Future  historians  of  London  may  perhaps  thank 
me  for  the  information. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

ST.  JAMES'S  SQUARE. 

St.  James's  Square  —  Duke  of  Hamilton  —  Frederick,  Prince  of 
Wales  —  Johnson  and  Savage  —  Jermyn  Street  —  Lord  St. 
Albans  —  Sir  Walter  Scott. 

ST.  JAMES'S  SQUARE  dates  its  existence  from 
the  days  of  Charles  the  Second.  King  Street  and 
Charles  Street  were  named  in  compliment  to  that 
monarch,  as  York  Street  and  Duke  Street  were 
named  after  his  brother,  the  Duke  of  York,  after- 
ward James  the  Second. 

As  early  as  the  year  1683  we  find  the  Marquis 
of  Dorchester  and  the  Earls  of  Kent,  St.  Albans, 
and  Essex  residing  in  St.  James's  Square.  Many, 
however,  of  the  ancient  nobility  still  continued  to 
retain  their  old  family  mansions  in  the  eastern 
quarters  of  London,  or  in  districts  which  now 
sound  strangely  uninhabitable  to  fashionable  ears. 
At  the  period  of  which  we  are  speaking,  the  Duke 
of  Newcastle  lived  in  Clerkenwell  Close,  the  Earl 
of  Bridgewater  in  the  Barbican,  the  Earl  of  Thanet 
in  Aldersgate  Street,  and  Lord  Grey  of  Werk  in 
Charterhouse  Close.  The  Dukes  of  Norfolk  and 
Beaufort,  and  the  Earls  of  Bedford  and  Salisbury, 


134  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

still  retained  the  houses  of  their  forefathers  in  the 
Strand  ;  the  Marquis  of  Winchester,  and  the  Earls 
of  Cardigan  and  Powis,  resided  in  Lincoln's  Inn 
fields,  and  the  Earls  of  Clare,  Anglesea,  and  Craven 
in  Drury  Lane. 

When  James  the  Second,  worn  out  by  the  re- 
proaches of  his  young  wife  and  the  arguments  of 
his  priests,  determined  on  separating  from  his  cele- 
brated mistress,  Catherine  Sedley,  he  created  her 
Baroness  of  Darlington  and  Countess  of  Dorches- 
ter, and  removed  her  from  her  apartments  in  the 
royal  palace  of  Whitehall  to  a  house  which  he 
presented  to  her  in  St.  James's  Square.  In  a  letter 
of  the  period,  dated  6th  of  April,  1686,  the  writer 
says  :  "  I  imagine  your  Countess  of  Dorchester  will 
speedily  move  hitherwards,  for  her  house  is  fur- 
nishing very  fine  in  St.  James's  Square,  and  a  seat 
taken  for  her  in  the  new  consecrated  St.  Ann's 
Church." 

"Yet  Vane  could  tell  what  ills  from  beauty  spring, 
And  Sedley  cursed  the  charms  which  pleased  a  king." 

When  Doctor  Johnson  wrote  this  well-known 
couplet,  he  must  have  been  strangely  ignorant  of 
the  true  history  and  real  character  of  Lady  Dor- 
chester. She  retired  from  the  embraces  of  her 
royal  lover  with  a  coronet,  a  handsome  fortune,  a 
house  in  St.  James's  Square,  and  a  pew  in  St. 
Ann's  Church.  With  these  she  possessed  a  wit 
and  exuberance  of  spirits  which  continued  with 


ST.   JAMES'S  SQUARE.  135 

her  apparently  to  the  last.  Speaking  of  the  eccen- 
tric physician,  Doctor  Radcliffe,  she  said,  "  Doctor 
Radcliffe  and  myself  together  could  cure  a  fever." 
With  these  advantages,  what  reason  could  she 
have  had  to  curse  the  charms  which  had  fascinated 
her  royal  lover? 

In  St.  James's  Square  lived  another  minion  of 
a  court,  William  Bentinck,  Earl  of  Portland,  the 
Dutch  favourite  of  William  the  Third,  and  here  his 
body  lay  in  state  previous  to  its  interment  in  West- 
minster Abbey. 

In  the  "  New  View  of  London,"  published  in 
1 708,  St.  James's  Square  is  described  as  "  a  very 
pleasant,  large,  and  beautiful  square,  mostly  in- 
habited by  the  prime  quality ;  all  very  fine  spa- 
cious building,  except  that  side  toward  Pall  Mall." 
At  this  period  there  were  residing  here,  on  the 
north  side,  the  Dukes  of  Northumberland  and 
Ormond  and  the  Earl  of  Pembroke ;  on  the  east 
side,  the  Earls  of  Sunderland  and  Kent,  and  Lords 
Ossulstone  and  Woodstock ;  and,  on  the  west 
side,  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  and  Lord  Torrington. 

To  St.  James's  Square  were  conveyed  the  re- 
mains of  the  unfortunate  Duke  of  Hamilton,  after 
he  was  killed  in  his  famous  duel  with  Lord  Mohun. 
Swift  writes,  on  the  i$th  of  November,  1712: 
"  This  morning  at  eight  my  man  brought  me  word 
that  Duke  Hamilton  had  fought  with  Lord  Mohun 
and  killed  him,  and  was  brought  home  wounded. 
I  immediately  sent  to  the  duke's  house  in  St. 


136  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

James's  Square,  but  the  porter  could  hardly  answer 
for  tears,  and  a  great  rabble  was  about  the  house. 
He  was  brought  home  in  his  coach  by  eight,  while 
the  poor  duchess  was  asleep.  They  have  removed 
her  to  a  lodging  in  the  neighbourhood,  where  I 
have  been  with  her  two  hours,  and  am  just  come 
away.  I  never  saw  so  melancholy  a  scene.  She 
has  moved  my  very  soul.  The  lodging  was  in- 
convenient, and  they  would  have  removed  her  to 
another,  but  I  would  not  suffer  it,  because  it  had 
no  room  backward,  and  she  must  have  been  tor- 
tured with  the  noise  of  the  Grub  Street  screamers 
mentioning  her  husband's  murder  in  her  ears." 

Sir  Robert  Walpole  lived  at  one  period  of  his  life 
in  St.  James's  Square,  and  at  the  same  time,  nearly 
opposite  to  him,  lived  the  celebrated  Lord  Ches- 
terfield, on  the  other  side  of  the  square.  When 
George  the  Second  quarrelled  with  his  eldest  son, 
Frederick,  Prince  of  Wales,  in  1737,  and  when  he 
issued  his  peremptory  order  to  the  prince  to  quit 
St.  James's  Palace  with  his  family,  the  latter  took 
up  his  residence  at  Norfolk  House,  on  the  east  side 
of  the  square,  which  immediately  became  the  cen- 
tre of  opposition  and  political  intrigue.  His  court 
was  necessarily  a  small  one,  for  the  king  at  the 
same  time  issued  an  order  that  no  persons  who 
paid  their  court  to  the  prince  and  princess  should 
be  admitted  to  his  presence.  In  Norfolk  House 
George  the  Third  was  born,  on  the  4th  of  June, 
1738.  He  was  a  "seven  months'  child,"  as  is  evi- 


ST.  JAMES'S  SQUARE.  137 

dent  from  his  sister,  afterward  Duchess  of  Bruns- 
wick, having  been  born  on  the  nth  of  August, 
1737.  "The  identical  bed,"  says  Wraxall,  "in 
which  the  Princess  of  Wales  was  delivered  is  now 
at  the  Duke  of  Norfolk's  seat  of  Worksop,  in  the 
county  of  Nottingham  ;  and  it  forcibly  proves  the 
rapid  progress  of  domestic  elegance  and  ease 
within  the  last  eighty  years.  Except  that  the 
furniture  is  of  green  silk,  the  bed  has  nothing 
splendid  about  it,  and  would  hardly  be  esteemed 
fit  for  the  accommodation  of  a  person  of  ordinary 
condition  in  the  present  times." 

In  St.  James's  Square  lived  Warren  Hastings, 
one  of  the  greatest  men  who  were  ever  perse- 
cuted by  an  ungrateful  country.  The  residence 
of  the  unfortunate  statesman,  the  Marquis  of 
Londonderry,  better  known  as  Lord  Castlereagh, 
was  at  No.  16,  at  the  north  corner  of  King 
Street.  No.  15  was  formerly  occupied  by  Sir 
Philip  Francis,  the  reputed  and,  I  believe,  indis- 
putable author  of  "Junius  ;"  '  next  door,  No.  13, 
is  Litchfield  House,  celebrated  for  having  been 
the  scene  of  Whig  cabals  in  the  present  century ; 
and  at  No.  n,  in  the  northwest  corner,  lived  the 
amiable  scholar  and  statesman,  William  Wyndham. 

There  remain  the  names  of  two  other  individ- 
uals whose  history  is  associated  with  St.  James's 

1  This  house  was  occupied  by  Queen  Caroline  during  the 
period  of  her  celebrated  trial,  and  from  hence  she  proceeded  in 
state  to  the  House  of  Lords  on  each  day  that  it  lasted. 


138  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

Square,  one  of  which  at  least  is  no  less  illustrious 
than  any  we  have  yet  mentioned,  while  both  of 
them  excite  feelings  of  deep  and  painful  interest. 
We  allude  to  Doctor  Johnson  and  Savage,  the 
poet.  It  is  melancholy  to  reflect  that,  to  such  a 
state  of  misery  and  destitution  were  they  reduced 
at  one  period  of  their  lives,  that  they  were  unable 
to  defray  the  expenses  of  a  lodging,  and  were 
consequently  compelled  to  wander  together  dur- 
ing whole  nights  in  the  streets.  In  after  years, 
Johnson  mentioned  a  particular  night  to  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds,  when,  without  a  shilling  be- 
tween them,  he  had  perambulated  St.  James's 
Square  for  hours  with  his  unfortunate  friend. 
Misfortune  and  misconduct  generally  mean  the 
same  thing ;  and  whatever  the  errors  or  the 
habits  of  the  great  philosopher  may  have  been 
at  this  period  of  his  life,  by  improved  industry 
and  a  life  of  virtue  he  grew  to  hold  a  high  posi- 
tion in  society  and  in  the  literature  of  his  country, 
while  the  ill-fated  Savage,  by  a  long  course  of 
dissipation  and  self-indulgence,  was  reduced  to 
a  miserable  death,  within  the  precincts  of  a  pro- 
vincial gaol. 

It  may  be  necessary  to  observe  that  the  statue 
in  the  centre  of  St.  James's  Square  is  that  of 
William  the  Third. 

From  St.  James's  Square  we  pass  into  Charles 
Street,  of  which  I  have  nothing  to  remark  but 
that  it  was  at  one  period  the  residence  of  Edmund 


ST.   JAMES'S  SQUARE.  139 

Burke.  Close  by  is  Jermyn  Street,  which  derives 
its  name  (as  does  St.  Albans  Place,  running  out 
of  Charles  Street)  from  Henry  Jermyn,  Earl  of 
St.  Albans,  whose  mansion  and  gardens  occupied, 
in  the  days  of  Charles  the  First,  the  spot  of 
ground  where  Waterloo  Place  now  stands.  The 
earl,  as  is  well  known,  was  the  lover  and  reputed 
husband  of  Henrietta  Maria.  Of  their  marriage, 
indeed,  there  can  be  little  doubt ;  and  it  was  prob- 
ably on  this  very  ground  that  the  earl  enter- 
tained and  wooed  his  royal  mistress.  In  her 
subsequent  days  of  exile  and  distress,  the  once 
haughty  and  beautiful  queen  had  little  reason  to 
congratulate  herself  on  the  frailty  and  condescen- 
sion which  had  induced  her  to  be  unfaithful  to 
the  memory  of  her  martyred  husband,  — 

"  Non  servata  fides  cineri  promissa  Sichaeo,"  — 

and  to  bestow  her  hand  upon  a  subject.  Madame 
de  Baviere  observes,  in  one  of  her  letters :  "  The 
widow  of  Charles  the  First  made  a  clandestine 
marriage  with  her  chevalier  d'honneur,  Lord  St. 
Albans,  who  treated  her  extremely  ill,  so  that, 
while  she  had  not  a  fagot  to  warm  herself  with, 
he  had  in  his  apartment  a  good  fire  and  a  sumptu- 
ous table.  He  never  gave  the  queen  a  kind  word, 
and  when  she  spoke  to  him,  he  used  to  say,  '  Que 
me  veut  cette  femme  ?  '  (What  does  that  woman 
want  ? ) "  The  truth  of  this  anecdote  is  corrob- 
orated by  Count  Hamilton,  in  his  Memoirs  of 


140  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

Count  de  Grammont.  "  It  is  well  known,"  he 
says,  "  what  an  excellent  table  the  earl  kept  at 
Brussels,  while  the  king,  his  master,  was  starving, 
and  his  mistress,  the  queen  dowager,  lived  not 
over  well  in  France." 

But  Jermyn  Street  is  associated  with  brighter 
names  than  these.  We  find,  by  his  correspond- 
ence, that  Sir  Isaac  Newton  was  residing  here  in 
1699,  and  here,  in  1768,  lived  Thomas  Gray,  the 
poet.  In  a  letter  from  him,  dated  the  3d  of 
August,  in  this  year,  he  informs  his  corre- 
spondent, Mr.  Nicholls,  that  the  king  has  con- 
ferred upon  him  the  professorship  of  history  at 
Cambridge. 

I  seldom  pass  by  the  St.  James's  Hotel,  in 
Jermyn  Street,  without  reflecting  with  a  pain- 
ful interest  that  it  was  the  scene  of  almost  the 
latest  sufferings,  and  received  nearly  the  last 
sigh,  of  Sir  Walter  Scott.  When  that  great  man, 
by  his  own  particular  wish,  was  hurried  from 
the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean  to  breathe  his 
last  at  his  beloved  Abbotsford,  it  was  here  that 
he  passed  the  three  melancholy  weeks  which  in- 
tervened between  his  arrival  in  London  and  his 
departure  for  the  banks  of  the  Tweed.1  "When 

1  Just  before  Sir  Walter  Scott  set  out  for  the  Continent,  in. 
hopes  of  regaining  that  health  which  never  returned  to  him,  he 
dined  with  the  late  Mr.  Murray  in  Albemarle  Street.  Mr.  Mur- 
ray informed  me  that,  for  some  time,  he  joined  cheerfully  in 
conversation,  but  suddenly  a  thought  seemed  to  strike  him,  and 


ST.   JAMES'S  SQUARE.  141 

we  reached  the  hotel,"  says  Mr.  Lockhart,  "he 
recognised  us  with  many  marks  of  tenderness, 
but  signified  that  he  was  totally  exhausted;  so 
no  attempt  was  made  to  remove  him  farther,  and 
he  was  put  to  bed  immediately.  To  his  children, 
all  assembled  once  more  about  him,  he  repeatedly 
gave  his  blessing  in  a  very  solemn  manner,  as  if 
expecting  immediate  death ;  but  he  was  never  in 
a  condition  for  conversation,  and  sunk  either 
into  sleep  or  delirious  stupor  upon  the  slightest 
effort."  The  account  of  Fergusson,  who  was  sel- 
dom absent  from  Sir  Walter's  pillow  during  his 
sojourn  in  Jermyn  Street,  is  extremely  interest- 
ing. "  When  I  saw  Sir  Walter,"  he  says,  "  he 
was  lying  in  the  second-floor  back  room  of  the 
St.  James's  Hotel  in  Jermyn  Street,  in  a  state 
of  stupor,  from  which,  however,  he  could  be 
roused  for  a  moment  by  being  addressed,  and 
then  he  recognised  those  about  him,  but  im- 
mediately relapsed.  I  think  I  never  saw  any- 
thing more  magnificent  than  the  symmetry  of 
his  colossal  bust,  as  he  lay  on  the  pillow  with  his 
chest  and  neck  exposed.  During  the  time  he  was 
in  Jermyn  Street  he  was  calm  but  never  collected, 
and  in  general  either  in  absolute  stupor  or  in  a 

an  expression  of  melancholy  passed  over  his  face.  After  a 
short  pause,  he  said,  "  It  is  singular  that  both  Fielding  and 
Smollett  should  have  died  in  foreign  countries ; "  evidently  re- 
flecting on  his  own  shattered  state  of  health,  and  foreseeing  that 
the  fate  of  his  two  illustrious  brother  novelists  would  in  all  prob- 
ability be  his  own. 


142  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

waking  dream.  He  never  seemed  to  know  where 
he  was,  but  imagined  himself  to  be  still  in  the 
steamboat.  The  rattling  of  carriages  and  the 
noises  of  the  street  sometimes  disturbed  this 
illusion,  and  then  he  fancied  himself  at  the  poll- 
ing of  Jedburgh,  where  he  had  been  insulted 
and  stoned.1  During  the  whole  of  this  period  of 
apparent  helplessness,  the  great  features  of  his 
character  could  not  be  mistaken.  He  always 
exhibited  great  self-possession,  and  acted  his  part 
with  wonderful  power  whenever  visited,  though 
he  relapsed  the  next  moment  into  the  stupor 
from  which  strange  voices  had  roused  him.  A 
gentleman  stumbled  over  a  chair  in  his  dark 
room  ;  he  immediately  started  up,  and,  though 
unconscious  that  it  was  a  friend,  expressed  as 
much  concern  and  feeling  as  if  he  had  never  been 
labouring  under  the  irritation  of  disease.  It  was 
impossible,  even  for  those  who  most  constantly 
saw  and  waited  on  him  in  his  then  deplorable 
condition,  to  relax  from  the  habitual  deference 
which  he  had  always  inspired.  He  expressed  his 
will  as  determinedly  as  ever,  and  enforced  it  by 
the  same  apt  and  good-natured  irony  as  he  was 
wont  to  use.  At  length  his  constant  yearning 

1  To  the  disgrace  of  the  Scottish  nation,  whom  he  had  de- 
lighted with  his  writings,  honoured  with  his  genius,  and  enriched 
by  the  crowds  of  strangers  which  flocked  to  their  country  to 
visit  the  scenes  which  his  pen  has  immortalised,  this  great  man, 
as  is  well  known,  during  an  election  at  Jedburgh,  was  stoned 
and  actually  spit  at  by  a  brutal  populace ! 


ST.   JAMES'S  SQUARE.  143 

to  return  to  Abbotsford  induced  his  physicians  to 
consent  to  his  removal ;  and  the  moment  this 
was  notified  to  him  it  seemed  to  infuse  new 
vigour  into  his  frame.  It  was  on  a  calm  clear 
afternoon  of  the  /th  of  July  that  every  preparation 
was  made  for  his  embarkation  on  board  the  steam- 
boat. He  was  placed  on  a  chair  by  his  faithful 
servant,  Nicholson,  half-dressed,  and  loosely  wrapt 
in  a  quilted  dressing-gown.  He  requested  Lock- 
hart  and  myself  to  wheel  him  toward  the  light  of 
the  open  window,  and  we  both  remarked  the 
vigorous  lustre  of  his  eye.  He  sat  there  silently 
gazing  on  space  for  more  than  half  an  hour,  ap- 
parently wholly  occupied  with  his  own  thoughts, 
and  having  no  distinct  perception  of  where  he 
was,  or  how  he  came  there.  He  suffered  himself 
to  be  lifted  into  his  carriage,  which  was  sur- 
rounded by  a  crowd,  among  whom  were  many 
gentlemen  on  horseback,  who  had  loitered  about 
to  gaze  on  the  scene.  His  children  were  deeply 
affected,  and  Mrs.  Lockhart  trembled  from  head 
to  foot,  and  wept  bitterly.  Thus  surrounded  by 
those  nearest  to  him,  he  alone  was  unconscious 
of  the  cause  or  the  depth  of  their  grief,  and  while 
yet  alive  seemed  to  be  carried  to  his  grave." 

On  the  ;th  of  July,  1832,  Sir  Walter  embarked 
on  board  the  steam-vessel  for  Scotland.  On  the 
i  ith  his  eye  once  more  brightened  up  as  it  caught 
the  familiar  waters  of  the  Tweed,  and  when  at 
length  he  recognised  the  Towers  of  his  own 


144  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

Abbotsford,  he  sprang  up  in  the  carriage  with  a 
cry  of  delight.  On  the  2ist  of  September  the 
mighty  master  of  romance  and  song  had  ceased 
to  exist. 

"  Oh  !  who,  like  him,  could  soar  from  zone  to  zone, 
And  paint  alike  the  cottage  and  the  throne  ! 
Feelings  that  still  from  every  bosom  flow, 
Yet  flowed  the  same  a  thousand  years  ago ; 
Joy  in  her  wildness,  anguish  in  her  throes, 
The  rich  man's  pageantry,  the  poor  man's  woes  ; 
Nature,  the  same  in  all  her  various  climes, 
The  picture  of  all  countries  and  all  times ; 
Warming  each  heart  to  soar  on  Fancy's  wings, 
And  making  peasants  intimate  with  kings. 
His  name  is  blazed  in  many  a  distant  land, 
By  foreign  tongues  his  wondrous  words  are  scanned ; 
Millions  unborn,  their  magic  to  partake, 
Shall  learn  the  language  for  the  poet's  sake. 
Him,  too,  shall  virtue  mourn,  whose  muse  begot 
1  No  line  which  dying  he  could  wish  to  blot ; ' 
The  master-spirit,  who  has  left  behind 
An  universal  debtor  in  mankind  ! 
Then,  had  ye  seen  him  heave  the  generous  sigh, 
Where  Anguish  groaned,  and  Want  retired  to  die ; 
Seen  how  his  glance  in  gentlest  pity  fell, 
To  soothe  those  pangs  his  pen  could  draw  so  well ; 
Or,  where  the  circle  closed  around  the  fire, 
Watched  the  kind  husband,  and  th'  indulgent  sire ; 
Warm  from  your  hearts  would  flow  the  fond  regard, — 
Ye'd  love  the  Christian,  as  ye  prize  the  bard. 
Ev'n  when  he  wandered  on  a  foreign  shore, 
To  seek  that  health  which  must  return  no  more ; 
Ev'n  then  from  that  worn  frame  no  groan  was  wrung, 
No  fretful  murmur  faltered  on  his  tongue  ; 


ST.   JAMES'S  SQUARE.  145 

But  one  fond  wish  his  native  land  to  reach, 

And  fix  his  dying  eyes  on  that  loved  beach  ; 

The  land  his  childhood  roamed,  his  manhood  prized, 

The  scenes  his  genius  has  immortalised  ! " 


CHAPTER   VII. 

PALL    MALL. 

Former  State  of  Pall  Mall  —  Sir  Thomas  Wyatt  —  Murder  of 
Thynne  —  Charles  the  Second's  Mistresses  —  Beau  Fielding's 
Strange  Adventure  —  Schomberg  House  —  Star  and  Garter  — 
Duke  of  Buckingham's  Residence  —  Carlton  House. 

ABOUT  the  year  1660  the  tract  of  ground  on 
which  Pall  Mall,  St.  James's  Square,  and  Picca- 
dilly now  stand  consisted  of  open  fields,  St. 
James's  Street  alone  being  partially  built.  The 
wall  of  St.  James's  Park  ran  along  the  site  of  the 
houses  on  the  south  side  of  Pall  Mall,  and  the  only 
buildings  to  be  seen  west  of  Charing  Cross  were  a 
small  church,  the  name  of  which  is  not  remem- 
bered ;  the  conduit,  a  small  Gothic  building, 
which  stood  nearly  on  the  site  of  St.  James's 
Square ;  and  a  house  of  public  refreshment. 
The  latter  building  was  probably  the  tavern, 
called  the  "  Old  Pall  Mall,"  at  which  Pepys  in- 
forms us  that  he  occasionally  supped.  Anderson, 
who  wrote  in  the  middle  of  the  last  century,  ob- 
serves :  "  I  have  met  with  several  old  persons  in 
my  younger  days,  who  remembered  when  there 
was  but  one  single  house  (a  cake-house)  between. 

146 


PALL  MALL.  147 

the  Mews  Gate  at  Charing  Cross  and  St.  James's 
Palace  Gate,  where  now  stand  the  stately  piles  of 
St.  James's  Square,  Pall  Mall,  and  other  fine 
streets."  The  tract  of  ground  on  which  Pall 
Mall  now  stands  was  apparently  the  meadow, 
"  always  green,"  to  which  Le  Serre  alludes  in  his 
"  Entree  Royale."  "  Near  the  avenues  of  the 
palace,"  he  says,  "is  a  large  meadow,  always 
green,  in  which  the  ladies  walk  in  summer.  Its 
great  gate  has  a  long  street  in  front,  reaching 
nearly  to  the  fields.  The  palace  itself  is  built  of 
brick,  very  ancient,  with  a  flat  leaden  roof,  and  is 
surrounded  at  top  by  crenelles." 

It  was  along  the  site  of  the  present  Pall  Mall 
that  Sir  Thomas  Wyatt  marched  his  troops  in  his 
rash  attempt  on  London  in  1554.  The  Earl  of 
Pembroke,  who  advanced  to  oppose  him  at  the 
head  of  the  royal  forces,  planted  his  artillery  on 
the  high  ground,  where  Hay  Hill  and  Piccadilly 
now  stand,  when  a  piece  of  the  queen's  ordnance, 
we  are  told,  slew  three  of  Wyatt's  followers  in  a 
rank,  and,  after  carrying  off  their  heads,  passed 
through  the  wall  into  the  Park.  Stowe,  in  his 
brief  narrative  of  the  insurrection,  affords  us  an 
interesting  account  of  the  locality  of  this  part  of 
London  in  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century. 
"  The  same  night  (February  6th),  about  five  of 
the  clock,  a  trumpeter  went  about  and  warned  all 
horsemen  and  men  of  arms  to  be  at  St.  James's 
Field,  and  all  footmen  to  be  there  by  six  of  the 


148  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

clock  on  the  next  morning.  The  queen's  scout, 
upon  his  return  to  the  court,  declared  Wyatt's 
being  at  Brentford,  which  sudden  news  made  all 
the  court  wonderfully  afraid.  Drums  went  through 
London  at  four  of  the  clock  in  the  morning,  com- 
manding all  soldiers  to  armour,  and  so  to  Charing 
Cross. 

"  Wyatt,  hearing  the  Earl  of  Pembroke  was  come 
into  the  field,  stayed  at  Knightsbridge  until  day, 
where  his  men,  being  very  weary  with  travel  of 
that  night  and  the  day  before,  and  also  partly 
feebled  and  faint,  having  received  small  suste- 
nance since  their  coming  out  of  Southwark,  rested. 
There  was  no  small  ado  in  London,  and,  likewise, 
the  Tower  made  great  preparation  of  defence. 
By  ten  of  the  clock  the  Earl  of  Pembroke  had 
set  his  troop  of  horsemen  on  the  hill  in  the 
highway,  above  the  new  bridge  over  against  St. 
James's ;  his  footmen  were  set  in  two  battles, 
somewhat  lower  and  nearer  Charing  Cross,  at  the 
lane  turning  down  the  brick  wall  from  Islington 
ward,  where  he  also  placed  certain  other  horse- 
men ;  and  he  had  planted  his  ordnance  upon  the 
hillside.  In  the  mean  season  Wyatt  and  his  com- 
pany planted  his  ordnance  upon  a  hill  beyond  St. 
James's,  almost  over  against  the  park  corner ;  and 
himself,  after  a  few  words  spoken  to  his  soldiers, 
came  down  the  old  lane  on  foot,  hard  by  the  court 
gate  at  St.  James's,  with  four  or  five  ancients,  his 
men  marching  in  good  array.  The  Earl  of  Pern- 


PALL  MALL.  149 

broke's  horsemen  hovered  all  this  while  without 
moving  until  all  was  passed  by,  saving  the  tail, 
upon  which  they  did  set  and  cut  off.  The  other 
marched  forward  in  array,  and  never  stayed  or 
returned  to  the  aid  of  their  tail.  The  great  ord- 
nance shot  off  freshly  on  both  sides,  Wyatt's 
ordnance  overshot  the  troop  of  horsemen.  The 
queen's  ordnance,  one  piece,  struck  three  of  Wy- 
att's company  in  a  rank,  upon  the  heads,  and, 
slaying  them,  struck  through  the  wall  into  the 
park.  More  harm  was  not  done  by  the  great  shot 
of  either  party. 

"  The  queen's  whole  battle  of  footmen  standing 
still,  Wyatt  passed  along  by  the  wall  toward  Char- 
ing Cross,  when  the  said  horsemen  that  were  there 
set  upon  part  of  them,  but  were  soon  forced  back. 
At  Charing  Cross  there  stood  Sir  John  Gage, 
lord  chamberlain,  with  the  guard,  and  a  number 
of  others,  being  almost  a  thousand;  the  which, 
upon  Wyatt's  coming,  shot  at  his  company,  but 
at  the  last  fled  to  the  court  gates,  which  certain 
pursued,  and  forced  with  shot  to  shut  the  court 
gates  against  them.  In  this  repulse  the  said  lord 
chamberlain  and  others  were  so  amazed  that  many 
cried  treason  in  the  court,  and  had  thought  that 
the  Earl  of  Pembroke,  who  was  assaulting  the  tail 
of  his  enemies,  had  gone  to  Wyatt,  taking  his  part 
against  the  queen.  There  was  running  and  crying 
out  of  ladies  and  gentlemen,  shutting  of  doors  and 
windows,  and  such  a  shrieking  and  noise  as  was 


150  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

wonderful  to  hear.  The  noise  of  women  and  chil- 
dren," adds  Stow,  "when  the  conflict  was  at  Char- 
ing Cross,  was  so  great  that  it  was  heard  at  the 
top  of  the  White  Tower,  and  also  the  great  shot 
was  well  discerned  there  out  of  St.  James's  Fields." 

On  the  leads  of  St.  James's  Palace  stood  the 
Marquis  of  Northampton,  Sir  Nicholas  Penn,  Sir 
Thomas  Pope,  and  others,  anxious  spectators  of 
the  conflict.  Wyatt  passed  on  to  Ludgate,  but 
his  followers,  finding  that  no  persons  of  conse- 
quence joined  him,  insensibly  deserted  him,  and 
he  was  at  length  seized  by  Sir  Maurice  Berkeley 
near  Temple  Bar.  He  was  beheaded  on  Tower 
Hill  on  the  nth  of  April,  1554,  and  his  quarters 
were  set  up  in  different  parts  of  the  metropolis. 
His  head  was  fixed  to  the  public  gallows  on  Hay 
Hill,  from  whence  it  was  shortly  afterward  stolen 
away  by  some  of  his  relatives  or  friends. 

The  next  incident  of  interest  connected  with 
Pall  Mall  is  the  murder  of  Thomas  Thynne,  the 
princely  lord  of  Longleat,  on  the  I2th  of  Febru- 
ary, 1682.  The  scene  of  this  celebrated  tragedy 
was  nearly  opposite  to  the  entrance  of  the  present 
Opera  arcade,  in  those  days  apparently  a  dark  and 
retired  spot.  The  story  is  well  known.  Elizabeth, 
heiress  of  Jocelyn  Percy,  eleventh  Earl  of  North- 
umberland, had  been  married  when  a  mere  child 
to  Henry  Cavendish,  Earl  of  Ogle,  son  and  heir 
of  Henry,  Duke  of  Newcastle,  who  died  in  1680, 
leaving  her  a  "  virgin  widow "  at  an  early  age. 


PALL  MALL.  151 

Shortly  afterward  she  was  contracted  by  her 
grandmother,  the  old  Countess  of  Northumber- 
land, to  Thynne,  on  the  condition,  however,  that, 
on  account  of  her  extreme  youth,  a  twelvemonth 
should  elapse  before  the  consummation  of  the 
marriage.  In  the  meantime,  Count  Coningsmark, 
afterward  so  celebrated  as  the  lover  of  the  ill-fated 
Princess  Sophia  of  Zell,  and  who  himself  fell  by 
the  hand  of  an  assassin,  entertained  the  daring 
project  of  marrying  the  heiress  of  the  Percys, 
and,  as  a  preliminary  step,  decided  on  the  murder 
of  Thynne.  With  this  purpose  in  view  he  engaged 
the  services  of  three  foreign  adventurers,  Cap- 
tain Vratz,  a  German  ;  Lieutenant  Stern,  a  Swede  ; 
and  Borotski,  a  Pole,  who,  on  a  winter's  evening 
between  seven  and  eight  o'clock,  posted  them- 
selves on  horseback  at  a  spot  where  they  had 
ascertained  that  the  equipage  of  Thynne  would 
shortly  pass.  As  soon  as  the  coach  appeared  in 
sight  the  three  men  rode  up  to  the  window,  and, 
by  their  imposing  attitude,  easily  compelled  the 
coachman  to  stop.  Only  one  shot  was  fired,  which 
was  from  a  musketoon  by  Borotski ;  but  so  sure 
was  the  aim  that  as  many  as  five  bullets  entered 
the  body  of  his  unfortunate  victim.  "  I  happened," 
says  Reresby,  in  his  memoirs,  "  to  be  at  court  that 
evening,  when  the  king,  hearing  the  news,  seemed 
greatly  concerned  at  it,  not  only  for  the  horror  of 
the  action  itself,  which  was  shocking  to  his  natu- 
ral disposition,  but  also  for  fear  the  turn  the  anti- 


152  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

court  party  might  give  thereto.  I  left  the  court, 
and  was  just  stepping  into  bed,  when  Mr.  Thynne's 
gentleman  came  to  me  to  grant  him  a  hue  and 
cry,  and  immediately  at  his  heels  comes  the  Duke 
of  Monmouth's  page,  to  desire  me  to  come  to  him 
at  Mr.  Thynne's  lodgings,  sending  his  coach  for 
me,  which  I  made  use  of,  accordingly.  I  found 
there  his  Grace,  surrounded  by  several  lords  and 
gentlemen,  Mr.  Thynne's  friends,  and  Mr.  Thynne 
himself  mortally  wounded,  with  five  shots  from  a 
blunderbuss." 

The  following  epigram,  in  allusion  to  the  assassi- 
nation of  Thynne,  appears  to  have  been  much  in 
vogue  at  the  time  : 

"  Here  lies  Tom  Thynne  of  Longleat  Hall, 

Who  never  would  have  miscarried, 
Had  he  married  the  woman  he  lay  withal, 
Or  lain  with  the  woman  he  married." 

"Two  anecdotes,"  says  Horace  Walpole,  "are 
attached  to  these  lines.  Miss  Trevor,  one  of  the 
maids  of  honour  to  Catherine  of  Portugal,  wife  of 
Charles  the  Second,  having  discovered  the  Duke 
of  Monmouth  in  bed  with  a  lady,  the  duke  excited 
Mr.  Thynne  to  seduce  Miss  Trevor.  She  was 
'the  woman  he  lay  withal.'  'The  woman  he  mar- 
ried '  was  the  great  heiress  to  whom  he  was  affi- 
anced when  he  was  killed  by  Count  Coningsmark 
in  Pall  Mall."  With  some  difficulty  the  count  and 
his  three  auxiliaries  were  taken  into  custody,  Cap- 


PALL  MALL.  153 

tain  Vratz  being  the  last  who  was  captured,  in  the 
house  of  a  Swedish  doctor  in  Leicester  Fields. 
They  were  severally  tried  at  Hicks's  Hall,  when 
Coningsmark,  after  some  hesitation,  was  acquitted. 
The  remaining  three  were  found  guilty,  and,  on 
the  loth  of  March,  1682,  suffered  the  last  penalty 
of  the  law  at  the  scene  of  their  offence  in  Pall 
Mall." 

It  appears  from  a  small  tract  which  was  drawn 
up  by  the  celebrated  Bishop  Burnet,  who  attended 
the  criminals  in  their  last  moments,  that  Stern 
and  Borotski  admitted  the  justice  of  their  punish- 
ment and  died  penitent.  Vratz,  however,  per- 
sisted to  the  last  in  affirming  that  he  merely 
intended  to  challenge  Thynne  to  single  combat, 
and  that  the  fact  of  Borotski  having  fired  the  fatal 
shot  was  altogether  from  a  misapprehension  of  his 
orders.  When  Burnet  attempted  to  impress  him 
with  a  due  sense  of  the  heinousness  of  his  crime, 
"  he  considered  it  to  be  sufficient,"  he  said,  "  if  he 
confessed  his  sins  to  God,"  and  added  that  he 
"  thought  it  was  a  piece  of  popery  in  the  bishop 
to  press  him  to  confess."  He  expressed  his  firm 
conviction  that  he  should  be  "  received  into  eter- 
nal happiness,"  and  added,  as  his  opinion  of  the 
next  state,  that  the  only  punishment  of  the  damned 
would  be  their  exclusion  from  the  presence  of  God, 
and  their  seeing  others  happier  than  themselves. 
To  Doctor  Horneck,  another  clergyman  who  at- 
tended him,  he  expressed  even  more  extraordinary 


154  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

opinions.  "  He  was  confident,"  he  said,  "  that 
God  would  consider  a  gentleman,  and  deal  with 
him  suitably  to  the  condition  and  profession  he 
had  placed  him  in ;  and  that  he  would  not  take  it 
ill  if  a  soldier,  who  lived  by  his  sword,  revenged 
an  affront  offered  him  by  another." 

Burnet  had  more  than  once  warned  him  against 
a  false  affectation  of  courage,  which  must  neces- 
sarily desert  him  in  his  last  moments.  But  when 
they  finally  met  on  the  scaffold  in  Pall  Mall,  "  he 
smiled  on  me,"  says  the  bishop,  "  and  said  that  I 
should  see  it  was  not  a  false  bravery,  but  that  he 
was  fearless  to  the  last.  It  is  certain  that  never 
man  died  with  more  resolution  and  less  signs  of 
fear,  or  the  least  disorder.  His  carriage,  both  in 
the  cart  as  he  was  led  along,  and  at  the  place 
of  execution,  was  astonishing ;  he  was  not  only 
undaunted,  but  looked  cheerful  and  smiled  often. 
When  the  rope  was  put  about  his  neck,  he  did  not 
change  colour  nor  tremble ;  his  legs  were  firm 
under  him.  He  looked  often  about  on  those  that 
stood  in  balconies  and  windows,  and  seemed  to  fix 
his  eyes  on  some  persons.  Three  or  four  times  he 
smiled ;  he  would  not  cover  his  face  as  the  rest 
did,  but  continued  in  that  state,  often  looking  up 
to  heaven,  with  a  cheerfulness  in  his  countenance, 
and  a  little  motion  of  his  hands."  "The  captain," 
says  Reresby  in  his  "Memoirs,"  "died  without 
the  least  symptom  of  fear ;  and  seeing  me  in  my 
coach  as  he  passed  by  in  the  cart,  he  made  a  bow 


PALL  MALL.  I  55 

to  me  with  the  most  steady  countenance,  as  he  did 
to  several  of  the  spectators  he  knew,  before  he  was 
turned  off."  Stern,  on  the  scaffold,  complained 
that  he  died  for  a  man's  fortune  whom  he  never 
spoke  to,  for  a  woman  whom  he  never  saw,  and  for 
a  dead  man  whom  he  never  had  a  sight  of. 

As  early  as  the  year  1690,  Pall  Mall  appears  to 
have  been  formed  into  a  complete  street.  I  find 
that  the  fascinating  actress,  Mrs.  Oldfield,  was 
born  here  in  1683  ;  about  the  same  time  Nell 
Gwynn  built  a  house  in  Pall  Mall,  overlooking 
the  park,  on  a  spot  of  ground  which  had  been 
granted  her  by  her  royal  lover,  Charles  the  Sec- 
ond ;  and  here  John  Baptist  Moneyer,  the  painter, 
died  in  1690.  "Nell  Gwynn's  house,"  says  Pen- 
nant, "is  the  first  good  one  on  the  left  hand  of 
St.  James's  Square  as  we  enter  from  Pall  Mall. 
The  back  room  was,  within  memory,  entirely  of 
looking-glass,  as  was  said  to  have  been  the  ceiling. 
Over  the  chimney  was  her  picture ;  and  that  of 
her  sister  was  in  a  third  room."  Unless  Nell 
Gwynn  occupied  two  different  houses  in  this  local- 
ity, Pennant's  statement  is  incorrect.  A  Mr.  Ewin 
writes  to  Granger,  the  historian,  on  the  7th  of 
March,  1 77 1  :  "  My  friend,  Doctor  Heberden,  has 
built  a  fine  house  in  Pall  Mall,  on  the  palace  side ; 
he  told  me  it  was  the  only  freehold  house  on  that 
side  ;  that  it  was  given  by  a  long  lease  by  Charles 
the  Second  to  Nell  Gwynn,  and  upon  her  discov- 
ering it  to  be  only  lease  under  the  Crown,  she 


156  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

returned  him  the  lease  and  conveyance,  saying 
she  had  always  conveyed  free  under  the  Crown, 
and  always  would,  and  would  not  accept  it  till  it 
was  conveyed  free  to  her  by  an  act  of  Parliament, 
made  on  and  for  that  purpose.  Upon  Nelly's 
death  it  was  sold,  and  has  been  conveyed  free  ever 
since."  This  statement  is  perfectly  correct.  The 
house  in  question,  on  the  site  of  which  the  light- 
hearted  actress  toyed  with  the  merry  monarch  and 
laughed  at  his  gay  courtiers,  is  now  No.  79  Pall 
Mall,  and  is  still  the  only  freehold  residence  on  the 
park,  or  south  side,  of  the  street.  She  died  here 
in  1691. 

Pall  Mall  is  connected  with  two  other  mistresses 
of  Charles  the  Second,  the  lovely  and  eccentric 
Hortense  Mancini,  Duchess  of  Mazarin,  and  the 
beautiful  and  imperious  Duchess  of  Cleveland. 
The  Viscountess  de  Longueville,  who  resided,  in 
the  days  of  William  the  Third,  at  the  house  of  her 
father,  in  Pall  Mall,  well  remembered  the  cele- 
brated M.  de  St.  Evremond,  "a  little  old  man 
in  his  black  silk  coif,"  being  carried  every  morning 
by  her  window  in  a  sedan-chair  to  the  house  of  the 
Duchess  of  Mazarin.  He  always  took  with  him 
a  pound  of  butter,  made  in  his  own  little  dairy,  for 
her  Grace's  breakfast.  The  death  of  the  duchess, 
in  1699,  appears  to  have  caused  great  distress  to 
St.  Evremond.  In  a  letter  to  M.  Silvester,  he 
writes  :  "  Had  the  poor  Duchess  of  Mazarin  been 
alive,  she  would  have  had  peaches,  of  which  I 


PALL  MALL.  157 

should  not  have  failed  to  have  shared ;  she  would 
have  had  truffles,  which  we  should  have  shared 
together  ;  not  to  mention  the  carps  of  Newhall." 

The  extraordinary  salutation  with  which  the 
Duchess  of  Cleveland  greeted  William  Wycherley, 
the  poet,  in  Pall  Mall,  is  well  known.  Wycherley, 
then  perhaps  the  handsomest  man  of  his  day,  had 
just  risen  into  reputation  by  the  success  of  his 
comedy,  "  Love  in  a  Wood,  or  St.  James's  Park," 
which  was  first  acted  in  1672.  He  was  passing 
along  Pall  Mall,  when  he  encountered  the  equipage 
of  the  Duchess  of  Cleveland,  to  whom  he  was  en- 
tirely unknown.  To  his  astonishment,  she  thrust 
her  head  out  of  the  carriage  window,  and  ex- 
claimed :  "  You  Wycherley,  you  are  a  son  of 
a  ."  The  poet  was  at  first  somewhat  con- 
fused, but  remembering  the  following  stanza  in 
a  song  introduced  into  his  "  Love  in  a  Wood,"  — 

"Where  parents  are  slaves, 

Their  brats  cannot  be  any  other ; 
Great  wits  and  great  braves, 

Have  always  a  punk  for  their  mother,  —  " 

he  considered  it  as  a  compliment  to  his  wit,  and 
immediately  drove  after  her  carriage  into  the  park. 
The  Duke  of  Buckingham,  then  master  of  the 
horse,  and  an  unsuccessful  lover  of  the  duchess, 
threatened  to  inform  the  king  of  their  intimacy, 
but  shortly  afterward,  meeting  Wycherley  at  the 
house  of  a  mutual  acquaintance,  be  became  so  de- 


158  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

lighted  with  his  society  that  he  appointed  him  one 
of  his  equerries  and  obtained  for  him  the  colonelcy 
of  a  regiment.  The  easy  monarch  also  forgave 
him  for  interfering  with  his  amours.  He  became 
fascinated  with  his  wit,  and  when  the  poet  was  ill 
with  a  fever,  he  visited  him  at  his  lodgings,  and 
defrayed  the  expenses  of  a  journey  which  he  per- 
suaded him  to  take  to  the  Continent,  for  the  recov- 
ery of  his  health. 

One  would  wish  to  be  able  to  point  out  the 
house  of  the  celebrated  Beau  Fielding,  the  "  Or- 
lando the  Fair"  of  The  Tatler,  in  Pall  Mall; 
one  would  like  to  visit  the  rooms  which  were  the 
scene  of  his  strange  adventure,  where  the  beauti- 
ful opera-singer,  Marguarita,  was  sent  for  to  sing 
the  "  lanthe  the  Lovely,"  and  where  he  passed  his 
wedding  night  with  the  fictitious  widow  of  Wad- 
don  Hall.  In  the  romance  of  real  life  there  is 
scarcely  a  story  more  amusing  or  more  remark- 
able than  that  of  Robert  Fielding,  the  handsomest 
coxcomb  of  his  day.  Having  ruined  himself  by 
the  splendour  of  his  equipages  and  his  addiction 
to  the  gaming-table,  he  proposed  to  repair  his 
broken  fortunes  by  uniting  himself  to  a  wealthy 
wife.  The  lady  on  whom  his  choice  fell  was  a 
rich  widow,  a  Mrs.  Deleau,  with  whom  he  had  no 
previous  acquaintance.  Having  taken  the  prelim- 
inary step  of  parading  his  handsome  person  before 
her  windows,  he  contrived  to  make  the  acquaint- 
ance of  a  Mrs.  Charlotte  Villars,  a  woman  of 


PALL  MALL.  159 

indifferent  reputation,  who  assured  him  that  she 
was  on  intimate  terms  with  the  widow,  and  who 
obtained  from  him  a  promise  of  .^500,  in  the 
event  of  Mrs.  Deleau  becoming  his  wife. 

Of  this  woman  Fielding  became  the  entire  dupe. 
At  length,  having  almost  worn  out  his  patience  by 
promises  of  an  interview  which  were  never  fulfilled, 
and  his  finances  by  several  valuable  presents  of 
"gold  aprons  stuck  with  green,"  and  other  articles, 
which  she  pretended  were  delivered  to  the  reluc- 
tant widow,  she  informed  him  that  she  had  with 
difficulty  induced  Mrs.  Deleau  to  grant  him  an 
interview  at  his  apartments,  and  promised  that  in 
a  few  days  she  would  bring  them  together.  In  the 
meantime  she  had  secured  the  connivance  of  a 
young  woman,  one  Mary  Wadsworth,  who  is  said 
to  have  somewhat  resembled  the  widow  in  person, 
and  whom  she  carefully  instructed  in  the  part 
which  she  was  about  to  play.  The  easy  manner 
in  which  a  man  of  the  town,  like  Fielding,  was 
duped  and  mystified  by  these  two  women  is  not  a 
little  curious.  The  remainder  of  the  scene  is  laid 
in  Pall  Mall.  Mary  Wadsworth,  having  consented 
to  play  the  part  of  Mrs.  Deleau,  was  conducted  on 
a  certain  evening  to  Fielding's  apartments,  where 
he  was  anxiously  expecting  his  intended  bride. 
The  scene  which  follows  is  taken  from  the  evi- 
dence of  the  go-between,  Mrs.  Villars,  as  it  appears 
in  the  "  State  Trials."  "  He  desired,"  she  says, 
"that  I  would  bring  her  to  his  lodgings  on  Lord 


160  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

Mayor's  day,  at  night,  which  I  did  about  nine 
o'clock,  in  a  mourning-coach.  Mr.  Fielding  was 
not  at  home,  but  came  immediately.  When  he 
came  in,  he  fell  upon  his  knees,  and  kissed  her, 
and  expressed  abundance  of  fond  expressions.  He 
asked  her  why  she  stayed  so  long,  and  whether 
she  loved  singing?  He  said  he  would  send  for 
Marguarita  to  come  up.  When  she  came  up,  Mr. 
Fielding  bade  her  sing  the  two  songs  he  loved ; 
which  she  did  :  the  one  was  '  Charming  Creature,' 
and  the  other,  '  lanthe  the  Lovely.'  After  which 
Mr.  Fielding  sent  for  two  pints  of  wine,  and  some 
plum-cakes."  The  evidence  of  the  beautiful  Mar- 
guarita,1 the  prima  donna  of  her  day,  is  no  less 
curious.  "  I  remember,"  she  says,  "  Mr.  Fielding 
sent  for  me  to  his  lodgings  in  Pall  Mall.  I  sang 
several  Italian  songs  and  one  English,  and  that 
was  '  lanthe  the  Lovely.'  He  desired  me  to  sing 
that  song,  '  lanthe  the  Lovely,'  for  he  said  he  had 
the  original  of  it,  and  had  translated  it  out  of  the 
Greek." 

The  evidence  of  Mrs.  Villars  affords  an  extraor- 

1  The  Marguarita  is  mentioned  by  Swift  in  a  letter  to  Stella 
from  Windsor,  in  1711  :  "  We  have  a  music-meeting  in  our  town 
to-night.  I  went  to  the  rehearsal  of  it,  and  there  was  Marguarita 
and  her  sister,  and  another  drab,  and  a  parcel  of  fiddlers ;  I  was 
weary,  and  would  not  go  to  the  meeting,  which  I  am  sorry  for, 
because  I  heard  it  was  a  great  assembly."  According  to  Mrs. 
Manley,  the  Earl  of  Nottingham  purchased  the  favours  of  the 
Marguarita  for  .£4,000,  and  afterward  bought  her  silence  for  a 
similar  sum. 


PALL  MALL.  l6l 

dinary  picture  of  a  clandestine  marriage  at  the 
commencement  of  the  last  century.  "  The  priest," 
she  says,  "  called  for  water,  salt,  and  rosemary,  to 
make  holy  water.  Boucher  (Fielding's  man  ser- 
vant) brought  up  water  and  salt,  but  could  get  no 
rosemary.  Mr.  Fielding  and  I  received  it  at  the 
dining-room  door.  Then  Mr.  Fielding  locked  the 
door,  and  took  the  key  on  the  inside.  Mr.  Field- 
ing asked  Mrs.  Wadsworth  whether  it  should  be 
done  in  the  bedchamber  or  dining-room  ?  Mrs. 
Wadsworth  agreed  it  should  be  in  the  bedchamber. 
There  were  none  present  but  Mr.  Fielding,  Mrs. 
Wadsworth,  the  priest,  and  myself.  The  priest 
made  holy  water,  and  blessed  it.  Then  he  set 
Mrs.  Wadsworth  at  the  right  of  Mr.  Fielding. 
The  priest  stood  before  them,  and  read  the  cere- 
mony in  Latin,  as  I  understood ;  and  Mrs.  Wads- 
worth  said  she  was  not  yet  satisfied  he  was  a 
priest.  Says  Mr.  Fielding  to  her,  <  Do  you  think, 
my  dear,  that  I  would  have  anybody  to  do  this 
business  but  the  holy  father  ? '  Mrs.  Wadsworth 
was  well  satisfied  till  he  came  to  that  part,  '  Wilt 
thou  have  this  woman  to  thy  wedded  wife  ? '  She 
desired  it  might  be  spoken  in  English  by  him. 
He  did  so.  Mr.  Fielding  said,  '  Yes,  with  all  my 
heart.'  He  asked  the  lady,  then,  if  she  would 
have  this  gentleman  for  her  husband.  She  said 
'yes,'  faintly.  'But,'  says  Mr.  Fielding,  'you 
must  speak  it  so  earnestly  as  I  do ;  you  must  say 
with  all  my  heart  and  soul ; '  which  she  did.  Then 


162  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

the  priest  blessed  the  ring,  and  gave  it  to  Mr. 
Fielding  to  put  on  the  lady's  finger.  He  said 
something  in  Latin,  but  what  it  was  I  know  not. 
Then  we  went  into  the  dining-room.  Boucher 
brought  up  wine,  and  when  all  had  drank,  the 
priest  was  discharged." 

We  will  conclude  these  curious  extracts  with 
the  evidence  of  Fielding's  servant,  Boucher.  "  My 
master,"  he  says,  "  ordered  me  to  be  at  home  and 
get  clean  sheets,  wax  candles,  and  sconces ;  and 
fires  in  both  the  rooms.  He  told  me  some  ladies 
would  be  there  that  night,  and  ordered  me,  if  he 
was  not  at  home  when  they  came,  to  tell  them 
that  he  would  be  there  presently.  Accordingly 
they  came,  and  he  was  not  at  home,  but  in  a  little 
time  he  came,  and  went  up  to  them.  Some  lit- 
tle time  after  that,  he  came  down-stairs,  in  great 
haste,  and  said,  '  Boucher,  go  and  speak  a  dish  of 
pickles.'  I  did  so,  and  brought  over  a  cloth,  and 
the  rest  of  the  things,  and  left  them  in  the  win- 
dow. I  stayed  by  the  stairs  till  he  came  back  in 
a  hackney-coach,  with  a  priest  along  with  him, 
in  a  long  gown,  and  long  beard,  and  a  fur  cap. 
I  knew  him  to  belong  to  the  emperor's  envoy. 
Then  I  was  ordered  to  set  the  table,  and  glasses, 
and  wine,  and  things  of  that  kind  upon  the  side- 
board. I  waited  at  table  all  the  while.  When 
supper  was  over,  Mr.  Fielding  ordered  me  to  go 
down  and  fetch  water,  salt,  and  rosemary.  I  went 
and  got  water  and  salt,  but  could  get  no  rosemary. 


PALL  MALL.  163 

Then  I  was  ordered  to  go  down,  and  they  were 
locked  in  about  three-quarters  of  an  hour.  When 
this  was  over,  the  priest  went  away.  Presently 
after,  says  Mr.  Fielding :  '  Take  the  sheets  from 
my  bed,  and  lay  them  on  the  other  bed  for  Mrs. 
Villars,  and  see  that  none  lie  there.'  Mrs.  Villars, 
in  the  meantime,  put  the  lady  to  bed.  When  I 
came  down  to  tell  them  of  it,  I  saw  the  lady's 
clothes  on  a  stool  in  the  chamber,  and  Mrs.  Villars 
folding  them  up  and  laying  them  in  another  room. 
I  then  lighted  Mrs.  Villars  to  bed,  and  then  went 
to  bed  myself.  In  the  morning  I  was  called  to 
make  a  fire.  I  then  perceived  this  lady  and  Mr. 
Fielding  in  bed  together.  The  fire  being  made, 
I  was  ordered  to  get  a  hackney-coach.  Mrs.  Villars 
dressed  the  lady  hastily,  and  she  was  carried  away 
in  the  hackney-coach." 

Fielding  appears  to  have  soon  discovered  the 
trick  which  was  played  upon  him,  for,  little  more 
than  a  fortnight  afterward,  he  married  the  cele- 
brated Barbara  Villiers,  Duchess  of  Cleveland. 
About  a  year  afterward,  on  the  4th  of  December, 
1706,  he  was  tried  for  bigamy  at  the  bar  of  the 
Old  Bailey,  and  being  found  guilty,  was  sentenced 
to  be  burnt  in  the  hand,  but  was  afterward  par- 
doned by  Queen  Anne.  His  marriage  with  the 
Duchess  of  Cleveland  was  formally  annulled  in 
the  Arches  Court  on  the  23d  of  May,  1707. 

Schomberg  House,  Pall  Mall,  is  still  one  of 
the  most  striking-looking  objects  in  the  street. 


164  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

It  was  built  by  the  Duke  of  Schomberg  in  the 
reign  of  William  the  Third  ;  apparently  by  Charles, 
the  second  duke,  the  son  of  the  celebrated  Ger- 
man favourite  of  William,  who  fell  at  the  battle 
of  the  Boyne  at  the  age  of  eighty-one.  Schom- 
berg House  appears  to  have  been  subsequently 
the  residence  of  the  celebrated  Duke  of  Cumber- 
land, the  "Butcher"  of  Culloden.  It  was  after- 
ward inhabited  by  Astley  the  painter,  commonly 
called  "  Beau  Astley,"  who  divided  it  into  three 
different  residences,  reserving  the  centre  for  him- 
self, which  he  fitted  up  in  a  very  whimsical  man- 
ner. Here  subsequently  resided  Richard  Cosway, 
the  well-known  miniature  painter,  and  here,  after 
he  had  outlived  his  ninetieth  year,  and  had  retired 
from  a  profession  which  he  had  so  much  honoured, 
"he  used,"  we  are  told,  "to  hold  up  his  palsied 
right  hand,  that  had  painted  lords  and  ladies  for 
upwards  of  sixty  years,  and  smile  with  unabated 
good-humour  at  the  vanity  of  human  wishes." 
In  Schomberg  House  lived  the  celebrated  painter, 
Gainsborough  ;  here  the  once  well-known  Robert 
Bowyer  formed  his  gallery  of  paintings  and  en- 
gravings, and  here  the  eccentric  Doctor  Graham 
resided  and  gave  his  lectures. 

The  following  curious  notice  of  Pall  Mall,  in 
1703,  is  from  the  pen  of  Defoe  :  "I  am  lodged  in 
the  street  called  Pall  Mall,  the  ordinary  residence 
of  all  strangers,  because  of  its  vicinity  to  the 
queen's  palace,  the  park,  the  Parliament  house, 


PALL  MALL.  165 

the  theatres,  and  the  chocolate  and  coffee  houses, 
where  the  best  company  frequent.  If  you  would 
know  our  manner  of  living,  'tis  thus  :  we  rise  by 
nine,  and  those  that  frequent  great  men's  levees 
find  entertainment  at  them  till  eleven,  or,  as  at 
Holland,  go  to  tea-tables.  About  twelve,  the  beau 
monde  assembles  in  several  coffee  or  chocolate 
houses ;  the  best  of  which  are  the  Cocoa  Tree 
and  White's  chocolate-houses,  St.  James's,  the 
Smyrna,  Mrs.  Rochford's,  and  the  British  coffee- 
houses ;  and  all  these  so  near  one  another,  that  in 
less  than  an  hour  you  see  the  company  of  them 
all.  We  are  carried  to  these  places  in  sedan-chairs, 
which  are  here  very  cheap,  a  guinea  a  week  or  a 
shilling  per  hour;  and  your  chairmen  serve  you 
for  porters  to  run  on  errands,  as  your  gondoliers 
do  at  Venice." 

The  sign  of  the  Star  and  Garter,  immediately 
opposite  Schomberg  House,  still  points  out  the 
site  of  the  fashionable  tavern  which  bore  the  same 
name  in  the  days  of  Queen  Anne.  It  was  here 
that  the  celebrated  club  occasionally  assembled,  of 
which  Swift  was  a  member,  and  which  consisted 
of  the  most  eminent  men  of  rank  and  genius  in 
that  remarkable  period.  Swift  writes  to  Stella,  on 
the  2Oth  of  March,  171 1-12  :  "  I  made  our  society 
change  their  house,  and  we  met  together  at  the 
Star  and  Garter  in  the  Pall  Mall ;  Lord  Arran 
was  president.  The  other  dog  was  so  extravagant 
in  his  bills,  that  for  four  dishes  and  four,  first  and 


166  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

second  course,  without  wine  or  dessert,  he  charged 
twenty-one  pounds  six  shillings  and  eightpence  to 
the  Duke  of  Ormond."  This  sum  is  not  a  little 
exorbitant,  if  we  remember  that  Swift  mentions  a 
party  of  nine  as  constituting  a  large  meeting  at 
the  club,  and  especially  when  we  consider  the  dif- 
ference of  prices  between  the  early  period  of  the 
last  century  and  the  present  day.  In  1763  we 
find  a  club  still  held  at  the  Star  and  Garter,  con- 
sisting of  George  Selwyn,  Gilly  Williams,  and 
other  men  of  wit  and  fashion  of  the  last  century. 

At  the  Star  and  Garter  took  place  the  famous 
duel  between  Lord  Byron  and  Mr.  Chaworth,  on 
the  26th  of  January,  1765.  Horace  Walpole  writes 
to  the  Earl  of  Hertford  the  next  day :  "  The  fol- 
lowing is  the  account  nearest  the  truth  that  I  can 
learn  of  the  fatal  duel  last  night.  A  club  of 
Nottinghamshire  gentlemen  had  dined  at  the  Star 
and  Garter,  and  there  had  been  a  dispute  between 
the  combatants  whether  Lord  Byron,  who  took  no 
care  of  his  game,  or  Mr.  Chaworth,  who  was  active 
in  the  association,  had  most  game  on  their  manor. 
The  company,  however,  had  apprehended  no  con- 
sequences, and  parted  at  eight  o'clock ;  but  Lord 
Byron,  stepping  into  an  empty  chamber,  and  send- 
ing the  drawer  for  Mr.  Chaworth,  or  calling  him 
thither  himself,  took  the  candle  from  the  waiter, 
and,  bidding  Mr.  Chaworth  defend  himself,  drew 
his  sword.  Mr.  Chaworth,  who  was  an  excellent 
fencer,  ran  Lord  Byron  through  the  sleeve  of  his 


PALL  MALL.  167 

coat,  and  then  received  a  wound  fourteen  inches 
deep  into  his  body.  He  was  carried  to  his  house 
in  Berkeley  Street,  made  his  will  with  the  greatest 
composure,  and  dictated  a  paper  which,  they  say, 
allows  it  was  a  fair  duel,  and  died  at  nine  this 
morning."  The  duel  seems  to  have  produced  a 
long  feud  between  the  neighbouring  families  of 
Byron  and  Chaworth,  nor  was  it  apparently  till 
the  great  poet  succeeded  his  granduncle  as  the 
lord  of  Newstead  Abbey,  that  a  Byron  was  again 
received  as  a  cherished  guest  at  Annesley  Hall. 
The  romantic  love  of  Lord  Byron  for  the  heiress 
of  the  Chaworths  is  well  known,  and  the  feud 
which  had  divided  the  families  is  more  than  once 
referred  to  in  his  writings.  In  "  The  Dream,"  the 
most  pathetic  and  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  his 
compositions,  he  says  of  his  first  love : 

"  Her  sighs  were  not  for  him  ;  to  her  he  was 
Even  as  a  brother  —  but  no  more  ;  'twas  much, 
For  brotherless  she  was,  save  in  the  name 
Her  infant  friendship  had  bestowed  on  him ; 
Herself  the  solitary  scion  left 
Of  a  time-honoured  race.     It  was  a  name 
Which  pleased  him,  and  yet  pleased  him  not  —  and 

why? 
Time  taught  him  a  deep  answer." 

And  he  says  in  prose,  scarcely  less  beautiful : 
"  Our  union  would  have  healed  feuds  in  which 
blood  had  been  shed  by  our  fathers ;  it  would 
have  joined  lands  broad  and  rich ;  it  would  have 


168  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

joined  at  least  one  heart  and  two  persons  not  ill- 
matched  in  years,  —  and  —  and  —  and  —  what  has 
been  the  result  ? " 

In  Pall  Mall  stood  the  Smyrna  Coffee-house,  a 
fashionable  resort  of  the  wits  of  the  reign  of  Queen 
Anne,  but  the  site  we  are  unable  to  point  out. 

The  only  other  house  in  Pall  Mall  of  any  inter- 
est which  still  remains,  is  the  residence  of  the  Duke 
of  Buckingham,  in  which  so  often  assembled  the 
wit,  the  rank,  the  beauty,  and  the  talent  of  a  past 
age.  It  was  here  that  an  event  occurred,  which, 
though  consisting  merely  of  a  private  and  disrepu- 
table quarrel,  Horace  Walpole  thought  proper  to 
record  in  his  "  Correspondence,"  and  Sir  Nathaniel 
Wraxall  in  his  "  Memoirs."  The  hero  was  George,1 
eldest  son  of  the  celebrated  John,  Lord  Hervey, 
the  effeminate  son  of  an  effeminate  father.  Horace 
Walpole  writes  to  Sir  Horace  Mann  on  the  25th 
of  February,  1750:  "About  ten  days  ago,  at  the 
new  Lady  Cobham's  assembly,  as  Lord  Hervey 
was  leaning  over  a  chair,  talking  to  some  women, 
and  holding  his  hat  in  his  hand,  Lord  Cobham 
came  up  and  spit  in  it  — yes,  spit  in  it! — and 
then,  with  a  loud  laugh,  turned  to  Nugent,  and 
said,  'Pay  me  my  wager.'  In  short,  he  had  laid 
a  wager  that  he  committed  this  absurd  brutality, 
and  that  it  was  not  resented.  Lord  Hervey,  with 

1  He  afterward  succeeded  as  second  Earl  of  Bristol ;  was 
ambassador  to  Spain  in  1758,  and  Lord  Lieutenant  of  Ireland  in 
1766.  He  died  unmarried  in  1775. 


PALL  MALL.  169 

great  temper  and  sensibility,  asked  if  he  had  any 
further  occasion  for  his  hat  ?  '  Oh  !  I  see  you 
are  angry  !  '  '  Not  very  well  pleased.'  Lord  Cob- 
ham  took  the  fatal  hat  and  wiped  it,  made  a  thou- 
sand foolish  apologies,  and  wanted  to  pass  it  for  a 
joke.  Next  morning  he  rose  with  the  sun,  and 
went  to  visit  Lord  Hervey ;  so  did  Nugent.  He 
would  not  see  them,  but  wrote  to  the  spitter  (or, 
as  he  is  now  called,  Lord  Gob'-em),  to  say  that 
he  had  affronted  him  very  grossly  before  com- 
pany, but  having  involved  Nugent  in  it,  he  desired 
to  know  to  which  he  was  to  address  himself  for 
satisfaction.  Lord  Cobham  wrote  him  a  most  sub- 
missive answer,  and  begged  pardon  both  in  his 
own  and  Nugent' s  name.  Here  it  rested  for  a 
few  days,  till,  getting  wind,  Lord  Hervey  wrote 
again  to  insist  on  an  explicit  apology  under  Lord 
Cobham' s  own  hand,  with  a  rehearsal  of  the  ex- 
cuses that  had  been  made  to  him.  This,  too,  was 
complied  with,  and  the  fair  conqueror  shows  all 
the  letters." 

But  Pall  Mall  is  associated  with  brighter  names 
than  any  we  have  yet  recorded.  Swift  had  lodg- 
ings here  in  1710;  here  Lord  Bolingbroke  had  a 
house  after  his  return  from  exile,  and  here  he 
renewed  his  intrigues  against  his  old  enemy,  Sir 
Robert  Walpole.  Gay,  the  poet,  writes  to  Swift  on 
the  22d  October,  1726,  "I  hear  that  Lord  Boling- 
broke will  be  in  town,  at  his  house  in  Pall  Mall, 
next  week,"  and  about  a  fortnight  afterward  we 


170  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

find  Pope,  Gay,  and  Arbuthnot  assembled  together 
at  the  table  of  the  noble  philosopher.  Pall  Mall 
also  is  associated  with  another  illustrious  name, 
that  of  Addison,  who,  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Anne, 
appears  to  have  been  a  frequenter  of  the  then 
fashionable  tavern,  the  "George,"  in  this  street. 
In  a  letter,  dated  2Qth  February,  1708,  we  find 
him  inviting  Swift  to  dine  with  him  here  at  two 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  he  mentions  that  Sir 
Robert  Steele  is  to  be  one  of  the  party.  In  1772 
Gibbon  dates  his  letters  from  Pall  Mall. 

Two  other  literary  names,  though  of  less  inter- 
est, are  associated  with  Pall  Mall.  The  one  is 
Robert  Dodsley,  the  footman,  the  poet,  the  drama- 
tist, and  the  publisher,  who  opened  a  bookseller's 
shop  here  in  1735,  which  was  the  lounging-place 
of  Pope,  Young,  Akenside,  Gray,  Joseph  and 
Thomas  Warton,  Horace  Walpole,  and  Burke. 
The  other  is  the  unfortunate  Letitia  Pilkington, 
the  authoress  of  the  well-known  autobiography, 
who  in  her  girlhood  had  been  the  sprightly  favour- 
ite of  Swift,  and  whose  indiscretions  appear  to 
have  been  at  least  equal  to  her  wit.  With  a  capi- 
tal, it  is  said,  of  only  five  guineas,  she  opened  a 
small  shop  in  Pall  Mall  for  the  sale  of  pamphlets. 
Distress  conducted  her  to  the  Marshalsea  prison, 
and  an  addiction  to  spirituous  liquors,  contracted 
by  her  in  her  days  of  penury  and  misfortune, 
brought  her  to  an  untimely  grave.  She  died  at 
Dublin  in  1750,  in  her  thirty-eighth  year. 


-    ' .    V  ; •   :     .  'hen 

street. 

In  &  kn/r.  -ind 

•ir  r.  •:..£  it   tWO 
o'clock  -r.  ;^ 

Rob**'-.  In  1772 

• 


Carlton  House. 

. 

Photo-etching  from  an  old  engraving. 


tr  to 
capi- 


PALL  MALL.  171 

Carlton  House,  with  its  beautiful  and  seques- 
tered pleasure-grounds,  has  passed  away  in  the 
present  century,  and  the  buildings  known  as  Carl- 
ton  Gardens  alone  point  out  the  site.  Carlton 
House  was  purchased  of  the  Earl  of  Burlington,  by 
Frederick,  Prince  of  Wales,  in  1732,  and  was  the 
occasional  residence  of  that  prince.  It  was  here 
that,  in  1751,  he  contracted  the  illness  which  was 
the  immediate  cause  of  his  death.  He  had  been 
unwell  for  some  time  with  a  pleurisy,  but  a  few 
days  before  his  end  was  sufficiently  recovered  to 
be  able  to  attend  the  king  to  the  House  of  Lords. 
On  his  return,  though  much  heated,  he  was  im- 
prudent enough  to  change  his  clothes  for  a  light, 
unaired  dress,  in  which,  on  a  very  inclement  day, 
he  travelled  to  Kew.  In  the  evening  he  returned 
to  Carlton  House,  and,  being  extremely  fatigued, 
lay  down  for  three  hours  in  a  very  cold  room,  that 
opened  on  the  ground  floor  into  the  garden.  Lord 
Egmont  remonstrated  with  him  that  it  was  a  very 
dangerous  indulgence,  but  to  no  purpose.  The 
consequence  was  a  fresh  cold,  and  this  produced  a 
return  of  the  illness,  which  proved  fatal  to  him. 

After  the  death  of  Frederick,  Carlton  House 
became  the  residence  of  his  widow,  Augusta  of 
Saxe-Gotha,  mother  of  George  the  Third,  and  the 
scene  in  which  she  carried  on  her  amatory  inti- 
macy with  the  celebrated  minister,  Lord  Bute. 
"It  cannot  be  denied,"  says  Wraxall,  "that  Lord 
Bute  enjoyed  a  higher  place  in  the  favour  of  the 


172  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

princess,  if  not  in  her  affections,  than  seemed 
compatible  with  strict  propriety.  His  visits  to 
Carlton  House  (which  were  always  performed  in 
the  evening),  and  the  precautions  taken  to  conceal 
his  arrival,  awakened  suspicion.  He  commonly 
made  use  on  those  occasions  of  the  chair  and  the 
chairmen  of  Miss  Vansittart,  a  lady  who  held  a 
distinguished  place  in  her  Royal  Highness's  notice ; 
the  curtains  of  the  chair  were  also  drawn."  Hor- 
ace Walpole  observes  :  "  I  am  as  much  convinced 
of  an  amorous  connection  between  Lord  Bute 
and  the  princess  as  if  I  had  seen  them  together." 

Carlton  House  subsequently  became  the  resi- 
dence of  George  the  Fourth  when  Prince  of 
Wales,  and,  during  his  regency,  it  was  in  its  gor- 
geous saloons  that  the  royal  voluptuary  held  his 
gay  revels.  The  pillars  which  formed  the  portico 
of  Carlton  House  are  now  attached  to  the  centre 
of  that  national  disgrace,  the  National  Gallery,  in 
Trafalgar  Square. 

We  are  enabled  to  record  a  few  more  names  of 
interest  in  connection  with  Pall  Mall.  In  1733  we 
find  the  unfortunate  Charles  Ratcliffe,  brother 
of  the  young  Earl  of  Derwentwater,  who  was  exe- 
cuted in  1716,  residing  at  a  Mr.  John's  in  Pall 
Mall.  He  had  with  difficulty  contrived  to  effect 
his  escape  from  the  Tower  in  1716,  and,  after 
residing  for  some  time  on  the  Continent,  returned 
to  London,  where  he  was  allowed  to  remain  unmo- 
lested. In  1745  he  prepared  once  more  to  take 


PALL  MALL.  173 

up  arms  in  the  cause  of  the  Stuarts,  but,  being 
captured  at  sea  on  board  a  French  vessel  laden 
with  ammunition,  he  was  carried  to  Newgate,  and 
subsequently  beheaded  on  Tower  Hill,  on  the  8th 
of  December,  1746. 

It  is  to  Pall  Mall  that  Fielding  conducts  Tom 
Jones  and  Nightingale,  when  they  are  compelled 
to  quit  Mrs.  Miller's  lodgings  in  Bond  Street. 
Here  also  resided  the  celebrated  Bubb  Doddington, 
and  we  can  almost  fancy  him  on  his  way  to  his  fan- 
tastic villa  at  Hammersmith,  in  his  roomy  coach, 
which  had  probably  been  his  ambassadorial  equi- 
page at  Madrid,  drawn,  we  are  told,  "  by  six  fat 
unwieldy  black  horses,  short-docked,  and  of  colossal 
dignity."  Lastly,  in  Pall  Mall  the  charming  actress, 
Mrs.  Abingdon,  passed  the  last  years  of  her  life. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 
ST.  JAMES'S  PALACE. 

Site  of  St.  James's  Palace  —  Erected  by  Henry  the  Eighth  — 
The  Residence  of  Queen  Mary,  Henry,  Prince  of  Wales, 
Charles  the  First,  Mary  de  Medicis,  Charles  the  Second, 
James  the  Second,  William  the  Third,  George  the  First, 
George  the  Second,  and  Daughter. 

ST.  JAMES'S  PALACE  stands  on  the  site  of  a 
hospital,  founded  before  the  Norman  Conquest, 
for  the  reception  of  "  fourteen  sisters,  maidens, 
that  were  leprous,  living  chastely  and  honestly," 
to  whom  five  brethren  were  afterward  added,  for 
the  purpose  of  performing  divine  service.  In  1532, 
Henry  the  Eighth,  having  taken  a  fancy  to  the 
site,  from  its  vicinity  to  the  palace  of  Whitehall, 
gave,  in  exchange  for  the  "hospital  and  fields," 
Chattisham  and  other  lands  in  Suffolk ;  and  at 
the  same  time  settled  pensions  on  the  sisterhood, 
whom  he  sent  forth  into  the  world  to  seek  an 
asylum  elsewhere.  "  I  find,"  writes  Lord  Herbert 
of  Cherbury,  "  that  our  king,  having  got  York 
House,  now  Whitehall,  upon  the  cardinal's  con- 
viction in  a  pramunire,  did  newly  enlarge  and 
beautify  it,  buying  also  the  hospital  and  fields  of 
St.  James's,  and  building  the  palace  there.  For 


ST.   JAMES'S  PALACE.  175 

which  purpose,  he  compounded  with  the  sisters  of 
the  house  for  a  pension  during  their  lives."  In 
the  words  of  Stow,  it  was  a  "  goodly  manor  ; "  and 
Holinshed  informs  us  that  the  king  converted  it 
into  a  "  fair  mansion  and  park."  Henry  com- 
menced building  the  palace  in  the  same  year  in 
which  he  married  Anne  Boleyn,  and  it  seems  not 
improbable  that  he  intended  it  to  be  the  residence 
of  his  beautiful  consort.  On  each  side  of  the  prin- 
cipal entrance  to  the  palace,  facing  St.  James's 
Street,  may  still  be  seen  a  small  arched  doorway, 
each  of  which  is  ornamented  by  the  "  love-knot " 
of  Henry  the  Eighth  and  the  ill-fated  Anne  Boleyn. 
In  1559,  Queen  Mary  —  familiar  to  us  from  our 
childhood  as  "  Bloody  Mary  "  —  breathed  her  last 
in  the  palace  erected  by  her  father.  "  'Tis  said," 
writes  Bishop  Godwin,  in  his  life  of  Queen  Mary, 
"  that  in  the  beginning  of  her  sickness,  her  friends, 
supposing  King  Philip's  absence  afflicted  her,  en- 
deavoured by  all  means  to  divert  her  melancholy. 
But  all  proved  in  vain  ;  and  the  queen  abandoning 
herself  to  despair,  told  them  '  she  should  die, 
though  they  were  yet  strangers  to  the  cause  of 
her  death ;  but  if  they  would  know  it  hereafter, 
they  must  dissect  her,  and  they  would  find  Calais 
at  her  heart ; '  intimating  that  the  loss  of  that 
place  was  her  death's  wound.  The  death  of  her 
father-in-law,  Charles  the  Fifth  of  Spain,  was  like- 
wise thought  to  have  considerably  augmented  her 
sorrow ;  so  that  these  things  probably  hastened 


176  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

her  end,  and  threw  her  by  degrees  into  a  dropsy, 
which  the  physicians  at  first  mistook,  believing 
her  with  child." 

The  circumstance  which,  far  more  than  the  ab- 
sence of  her  husband,  or  the  death  of  Charles  the 
Fifth,  appears  to  have  affected  the  mind  of  the 
dying  queen,  was  one  to  which  Bishop  Godwin 
obscurely  alludes,  namely,  the  disappointment  of 
finding  herself  affected  with  a  dropsical  disorder, 
when  she  had  fondly  hoped  that  the  alteration  in 
her  personal  appearance  gave  a  promise  of  her 
producing  an  heir  to  the  throne.  There  are  ex- 
tant, in  the  State  Paper  Office,  copies  of  a  very 
curious  circular  letter,  in  which  the  words  "  son," 
or  "daughter,"  are  left  blank,  which  were  intended 
to  be  filled  up  and  transmitted  to  the  different 
European  courts,  immediately  after  the  queen's 
accouchement.  From  St.  James's,  the  body  of  the 
deceased  queen  was  carried  in  great  state  to  West- 
minster Abbey.  "  Her  funeral,"  says  Bishop  Ken- 
nett,  "was  celebrated  on  the  13th  and  I4th  of 
December,  with  a  pomp  suitable  to  her  quality. 
Her  body  was  brought  from  St.  James's,  where 
she  died,  in  a  splendid  chariot,  with  attendants 
and  ceremony  usual  on  such  occasions ;  and  so  by 
Charing  Cross  to  Westminster  Abbey.  It  was 
met  at  the  church  door  with  four  bishops,  and  the 
lord  abbot  mitred.  Her  body  being  brought  into 
the  church,  lay  all  night  under  the  hearse  with 
watch.  On  the  next  day,  December  I4th,  was 


ST.   JAMES'S  PALACE.  177 

the  queen's  mass,  and  White,  Bishop  of  Winches- 
ter, made  her  funeral  sermon." 

We  have  no  record  of  either  Queen  Elizabeth 
or  James  the  First  having  kept  their  court  at  St. 
James's.  During  the  reign  of  the  latter  sovereign, 
it  was  set  apart  as  the  residence  of  the  gifted,  the 
witty,  the  virtuous,  and  precocious  Henry,  Prince 
of  Wales,  —  the  Marcellus  of  his  age,  —  who  kept 
his  court  here  with  considerable  magnificence  dur- 
ing the  lifetime  of  his  father.  It  was  a  court  com- 
prised of  beauty  and  chivalry  and  genius,  where 
the  young  were  the  most  welcome,  but  where 
literary  acquirements  were  still  more  distinguished 
than  personal  gallantry,  and  where  virtue  was  of 
far  more  consideration  than  beauty.  The  daily 
path  of  the  author  has  been  for  many  years  through 
the  silent  courts  of  St.  James's  Palace,  and  seldom 
has  he  wandered  through  them  without  peopling 
them  in  imagination  with  the  splendid  but  soberly 
retainers  of  the  chivalrous  young  prince,  and  im- 
agining that  in  such  or  such  a  part  of  the  palace 
he  passed  the  night  in  study  and  contemplation, 
or  that  in  such  a  chamber  he  breathed  his  last. 
Here  he  constantly  entertained  the  young,  the 
gallant,  and  the  beautiful  of  both  sexes ;  retaining 
about  his  person  a  number  of  young  gentlemen, 
whose  spirit  of  chivalry  and  literary  tastes  as- 
similated with  his  own.  We  are  informed  by  his 
faithful  follower,  Sir  Charles  Cornwallis,  that  though 
the  most  beautiful  women  of  the  court  and  city 


178  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

were  invited  to  his  entertainments,  yet  that  he 
could  never  discover  the  slightest  inclination  on 
the  prince's  part  to  any  particular  beauty.  A  great 
proof  of  the  prince's  popularity  is  the  manner  in 
which  his  court  at  St.  James's  was  attended,  the 
attendance  at  his  levees  being  much  more  numer- 
ous than  at  that  of  the  king  himself.  So  jealous 
was  James  at  this  circumstance,  that  he  once  made 
use  of  the  remarkable  words,  "  Will  he  bury  me 
alive  ? "  Though  pleasure  was  not  excluded,  his 
establishment  was  governed  with  discretion,  mod- 
esty, and  sobriety,  and  with  an  especial  reverence 
for  religious  duties. 

It  may  here  be  observed  that,  in  1610,  his  house- 
hold amounted  to  no  less  than  four  hundred  and 
twenty-six  persons,  of  whom  two  hundred  and 
ninety-seven  were  in  the  receipt  of  regular  salaries. 
The  death  of  this  promising  and  accomplished 
young  prince  took  place  in  St.  James's  Palace  on 
the  6th  of  November,  1612,  after  a  long  illness 
which  he  bore  with  exemplary  piety  and  resigna- 
tion. "  On  Sunday,  the  25th  of  October,"  we 
are  told,  "he  heard  a  sermon,  the  text  in  Job, 
'Man  that  is  born  of  woman  is  of  short  continu- 
ance, and  is  full  of  trouble.'  After  that  he  pres- 
ently went  to  Whitehall,  and  heard  another  sermon 
before  the  king,  and  after  dinner,  being  ill,  craved 
leave  to  retire  to  his  own  court,  where  instantly 
he  fell  into  sudden  sickness,  faintings,  and  after 
that  a  shaking,  with  great  heat  and  headache,  that 


ST.  JAMES'S  PALACE.  179 

left  him  not  whilst  he  had  life."  The  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury  and  the  Dean  of  Rochester  remained 
by  his  bedside,  and  prayed  with  him  during  his 
illness.  Cornwallis  says:  "He  bore  his  sickness 
with  patience,  and  as  often  recognition  of  his  faith, 
his  hopes,  and  his  appeals  to  God's  mercy,  as  his 
infirmity,  which  afflicted  him  altogether  in  his  head, 
would  possibly  permit."  Prince  Henry  when  he 
died  was  only  in  his  nineteenth  year. 

When  Charles  the  First,  on  the  death  of  his 
brother,  became  Prince  of  Wales,  he  occasionally 
resided  at  St.  James's,  and  here,  with  the  assist- 
ance of  Sir  Kenelm  Digby,  he  formed  his  fine 
collection  of  statues,  which  was  dispersed  during 
the  civil  troubles.  After  his  accession  to  the 
throne,  we  find  no  occasion  of  his  keeping  his 
court  here  ;  though  it  is  remarkable  that  his  beau- 
tiful consort,  Henrietta  Maria,  selected  it,  on  every 
practicable  occasion,  in  preference  to  Whitehall, 
as  the  place  of  her  confinement.  Her  first-born, 
indeed,  who  died  an  infant,  was  born  at  the  palace 
of  Greenwich,  and  the  apartment  is  said  still  to 
exist  in  what  is  now  the  school  attached  to  the 
hospital.  Her  second  and  third  sons,  however, 
Charles  and  James,  —  successively  Kings  of  Eng- 
land, —  were  both  born  at  St.  James's  ;  and  here, 
also,  Henrietta  was  confined  with  her  second 
daughter,  Elizabeth,  —  that  interesting  child,  the 
darling  of  her  ill-fated  father,  over  whom  Charles 
wept  his  last  tear  in  their  interview  in  St.  James's 


180  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

Palace  the  day  previous  to  his  execution.  Having 
communicated  to  her  his  last  injunctions,  "  Sweet- 
heart," he  said,  "you  will  forget  this."  "  No,"  she 
replied,  "  I  shall  never  forget  it  while  I  live ; " 
and  with  many  tears  promised  to  write  down  the 
particulars,  —  a  promise  which  she  faithfully  kept, 
as  is  proved  by  the  interesting  account  which  the 
royal  child  drew  up  of  her  last  interview  with  her 
father,  which  is  still  extant. 

When,  in  1638,  the  intrigues  of  Cardinal  Riche- 
lieu drove  Mary  de  Medicis  from  the  court  of  her 
son,  Louis  the  Thirteenth,  and  when  France  no 
longer  afforded  a  safe  asylum  to  the  widow  of 
Henry  the  Fourth,  her  daughter  Henrietta  invited 
her  to  England,  and  St.  James's  Palace  was  fixed 
upon  as  the  place  of  her  residence.  The  spirit  of 
puritanism  was  then  alive,  and  the  arrival  of  a 
popish  and  unfriended  princess  in  the  metropolis 
not  only  aroused  the  fury  of  the  bigoted  populace, 
but  it  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  the 
military  could  be  induced  to  interfere  in  protect- 
ing her  from  their  insolence  and  violence.  Before 
the  equipage  of  the  exiled  queen  entered  the  gates 
of  St.  James's  Palace,  three  persons  were  actually 
killed  in  the  riots.  Waller,  on  the  occasion  of 
her  arrival  in  England,  complimented  the  unfor- 
tunate queen  with  a  poetical  address,  in  which 
affectation  of  learning,  false  wit,  and  strained 
compliments  constitute  the  principal  ingredients. 
Fenton  tells  us  in  his  notes  to  that  poet,  that 


ST.   JAMES'S  PALACE.  l8l 

"at  length  the  queen  was  lodged  safe  in  St. 
James's  Palace,  where,  for  about  three  years,  she 
enjoyed  a  pension  of  three  thousand  pounds  a 
month!"  Her  continued  residence  in  England 
was  highly  displeasing  to  the  Parliament,  who 
petitioned  the  king  to  remove  her  out  of  the 
kingdom  ;  at  the  same  time  softening  their  un- 
gracious and  inhospitable  appeal  by  making  her  a 
present  of  ten  thousand  pounds  to  make  provision 
for  her  journey. 

The  principal  interest  which  attaches  to  St. 
James's  Palace  is  unquestionably  from  Charles  the 
First  having  passed  the  last  days  of  his  life  a 
prisoner  in  its  gloomy  apartments ;  from  its  hav- 
ing been  the  scene  of  the  insults  which  he  met 
with  from  the  brutal  republican  soldiery ;  from  its 
having  been  the  scene  of  his  last  affecting  inter- 
view with  his  beloved  children,  and  from  his  hav- 
ing passed  forth  from  its  garden  entrance  into  the 
park  on  the  morning  that  he  was  led  to  execution 
at  Whitehall. 

A  few  days  before  his  memorable  trial  in  West- 
minster Hall,  Charles  was  brought  from  Windsor 
to  St.  James's  in  a  coach  surrounded  by  a  strong 
guard  of  military,  the  insolent  fanatical  preacher, 
Hugh  Peters,  riding  in  triumph  in  front  of  the 
cavalcade.  The  king's  affectionate  follower,  Her- 
bert, informs  us  that  the  apartments  intended  for 
the  reception  of  the  royal  martyr  were  hastily  fur- 
nished by  his  servant,  Mr.  Kinnersley  of  the 


1 82  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

Wardrobe.  "On  his  arrival  at  St.  James's  the 
first  act  of  the  unfortunate  king  was  to  retire 
to  his  own  chamber,  where  he  continued  for  some 
time  in  prayer,  and  in  the  perusal  of  the  Bible. 
For  about  a  fortnight  he  was  treated  with  some 
regard  to  his  exalted  rank,  though  with  little 
respect  to  his  private  feelings.  Although  the 
principal  nobility,  his  favourite  servants,  and  his 
domestic  chaplains  were  excluded  from  his  soci- 
ety, he  was  still  attended  with  some  degree  of 
former  state.  He  dined  publicly  in  the  presence- 
chamber  ;  the  gentlemen  of  his  household  waited 
on  him  at  his  meals,  and  the  cup  as  usual  was 
presented  to  him  on  the  knee.  Nevertheless,  the 
strictest  guard  was  placed  over  his  person,  and 
only  one  of  his  followers,  the  affectionate  Herbert, 
was  permitted  to  attend  him  in  his  bedchamber. 
But  even  this  mockery  of  respect  was  continued 
but  for  a  few  days.  It  was  decreed,  at  one  of  the 
councils  of  the  army,  that  henceforward  all  state 
ceremony  should  be  dispensed  with,  and  that  the 
number  of  his  domestics,  and  even  the  dishes 
supplied  to  his  table,  should  be  diminished.  When 
this  unfeeling  and  parsimonious  curtailment  and 
the  absence  of  many  familiar  faces  were  remarked 
by  Charles,  and  when  his  restricted  meal  was 
brought  into  the  presence-chamber  at  St.  James's 
by  common  soldiers,  'There  is  nothing,'  he 
remarked,  'more  contemptible  than  a  despised 
prince.' "  From  this  time  he  caused  his  food 


ST.   JAMES'S  PALACE.  183 

to  be  conveyed  into  his  own  chamber,  where  he 
partook  of  his  meals  in  private. 

To  decapitate  a  monarch  or  to  hang  a  dema- 
gogue, once  or  twice  a  century,  may  perhaps  be  for 
the  general  advantage  of  mankind ;  but  whether 
the  beheading  of  Charles  the  First  was  a  pious  or 
a  parricidal  act,  —  whether  it  was  a  brutal  murder 
or  a  fine  stroke  of  policy,  —  we  are  not  here  called 
upon  to  decide.  There  can  be  no  question,  how- 
ever, that  the  republicans  ought  to  have  had  some 
feeling  for  the  sufferings  of  a  fallen  and  oppressed 
but  once  powerful  monarch.  Lord  Clarendon,  in 
one  of  the  suppressed  passages  of  his  history  of 
the  rebellion,  gives  a  heart-stirring  account  of  the 
king's  sufferings  at  the  period  he  was  a  prisoner  in 
St.  James's  Palace.  A  guard  of  soldiers,  he  says, 
was  forced  upon  the  unfortunate  king,  night  as 
well  as  day,  even  in  his  bedchamber,  where  they 
smoked  and  drank  as  if  they  had  been  among  their 
own  comrades  in  the  guard-room.  The  king,  it  is 
added,  was  confined  entirely  to  his  sleeping  apart- 
ment, where  he  was  compelled  to  perform  his 
devotions,  and  whatever  nature  requires,  in  the 
presence  of  his  rude  jailers. 

On  the  i Qth  of  January,  1649,  the  day  previous 
to  his  trial,  Charles  was  conveyed  in  a  sedan-chair 
from  St.  James's  Palace,  through  the  park,  to  his 
usual  bedchamber  at  Whitehall,  where  he  passed 
the  night  of  each  succeeding  day  of  his  trial,  till 
the  24th,  when,  after  his  condemnation,  he  was 


1 84  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

reconducted  to  his  sleeping  apartment  at  St. 
James's,  where  he  passed  the  three  remaining 
days  of  his  life.  On  the  day  previous  to  his  exe- 
cution took  place  the  famous  and  affecting  inter- 
view between  Charles  and  his  young  children,  the 
Princess  Elizabeth  and  the  Duke  of  Gloucester, 
the  particulars  of  which  are  too  well  known  to 
require  recapitulation.  He  watched  their  depart- 
ure with  a  father's  grief,  and  as  the  door  of  his 
apartment  was  about  to  close  them  for  ever  from 
his  sight,  he  moved  hastily  toward  them  from  the 
window  where  he  was  standing,  and,  folding  them 
passionately  in  his  arms,  again  kissed  and  blessed 
them,  and  bade  them  farewell  for  ever.  The  re- 
mainder of  the  day  was  passed  by  him  in  prayer 
and  meditation  ;  at  night  he  slept  calmly,  desiring 
the  faithful  Herbert  to  place  his  pallet-bed  on  the 
floor  by  the  side  of  his  own,  and  the  following 
morning  he  proceeded  from  the  palace  to  the  scaf- 
fold as  calmly  as  if  he  had  been  walking  in  a  trium- 
phal procession. 

Shortly  after  the  death  of  Charles,  the  gay  and 
gallant  courtier,  Henry  Rich,  Earl  of  Holland,  the 
presumed  lover  of  Henrietta  Maria,  was  sent  a 
prisoner  to  St.  James's  Palace.  It  was  from  hence 
that  he  was  carried  to  the  place  of  his  execution 
in  front  of  the  entrance  to  Westminster  Hall, 
where  he  was  beheaded  on  the  Qth  of  March,  1649, 
less  than  six  weeks  after  the  death  of  his  royal 
master.  His  fellow  prisoners  were  the  Duke  of 


ST.   JAMES'S  PALACE.  185 

Hamilton,  the  attached  friend  of  Charles  the  First, 
and  the  brave  and  noble-minded  Lord  Capel.  All 
three  suffered  on  the  same  scaffold. 

Charles  the  Second  was  born  at  St.  James's  on 
the  2Qth  of  May,  1630,  and  on  the  2d  of  July  fol- 
lowing was  christened  in  the  Chapel  Royal  of  the 
palace  with  all  due  solemnity.  "The  gossips," 
we  are  told,  "were  the  French, king,  the  palsgrave, 
and  the  Queen-mother  of  France ;  the  deputies, 
the  Duke  of  Lennox,  Marquis  Hamilton,  and  the 
Duchess  of  Richmond,  which  last  was  exceedingly 
bountiful.  The  ordnance  and  chambers  at  the 
Tower  were  discharged ;  the  bells  did  ring ;  and 
at  night  were  in  the  streets  plenty  of  flaming  bon- 
fires. The  duchess  was  sent  for  by  two  lords, 
divers,  knights  and  gentlemen,  six  footmen,  and  a 
coach  with  six  horses  plumed,  all  the  queen's  ;  and 
alighted,  not  without  the  gate,  but  within  the 
court.1  Her  retinue  were  six  women,  and  gentle- 
women I  know  not  how  many ;  but  all,  of  both 
sexes,  were  clad  in  white  satin,  garnished  with 
crimson,  and  crimson  silk  stockings." 

We  have  no  record  of  Charles  the  Second  hav- 

1  To  the  present  day,  the  gates  leading  into  the  inner  courts 
at  Hampton  Court  are  never  opened,  except  6n  very  rare  occa- 
sions, but  to  the  royal  family.  After  the  same  fashion,  the 
principal  entrance  to  that  interesting  mansion,  Ham  House, 
once  the  residence  of  our  princes,  is  never  opened  but  to  royalty ; 
and  when  the  author,  a  few  years  since,  visited  the  spot,  the 
only  ingress  was  by  a  miserable  doorway  leading  through  the 
offices  to  the  principal  apartments. 


1 86  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

ing  ever  kept  his  court  at  St.  James's.  During 
his  reign  it  was  set  apart  as  the  residence  of 
his  brother,  the  Duke  of  York ;  but  latterly  we 
find  the  beautiful  mistress  of  Charles,  Hortense 
Mancini,  Duchess  of  Mazarin,  —  the  formidable 
rival  of  the  Duchess  of  Portsmouth,  —  residing 
within  its  walls.  Captivated  by  her  wit  and 
beauty,  Charles  allowed  her  to  occupy  apartments 
in  the  palace,  and  conferred  on  her  a  pension  of 
.£4,000  a  year.  Waller,  though  in  his  seventy- 
first  year,  celebrated  in  verse  the  arrival  of  the 
noble  courtesan  at  St.  James's  with  the  same  zeal 
and  gallantry  with  which,  forty  years  previously, 
he  had  celebrated  the  welcome  of  Mary  de  Medicis 
to  the  same  apartments  : 

"  When  through  the  world  fair  Mazarin  had  run, 
Bright  as  her  fellow  traveller,  the  sun  ; 
Hither  at  length  the  Roman  eagle  flies, 
As  the  last  triumph  of  her  conquering  eyes." 

Like  his  brother  Charles,  James  the  Second 
gave  the  preference  to  Whitehall  as  a  courtly  res- 
idence, and  during  his  reign  St.  James's  Palace 
was  comparatively  deserted.  The  old  building  is 
nevertheless  intimately  connected  with  the  earlier 
history  of  the  bigoted  monarch.  Here  he  was 
born,  on  the  I5th  of  October,  1633,  an<^  was  im- 
mediately proclaimed  Duke  of  York  at  the  palace 
gates,  though  the  title  was  not  formally  conferred 
on  him  by  patent  till  the  2/th  of  January,  1643. 
Here  he  was  christened  by  the  Archbishop  of 


ST.   JAMES'S  PALACE.  187 

Canterbury  nine  days  after  his  birth ;  and  here 
his  infancy  passed  with  his  younger  brother,  the 
Duke  of  Gloucester,  and  his  interesting  sister,  the 
Princess  Elizabeth,  till  1641,  when,  in  consequence 
of  the  civil  troubles  breaking  out,  his  unfortunate 
father  sent  for  him  to  attend  him  at  York. 

At  the  surrender  of  Oxford  to  the  Parliamen- 
tary forces,  in  1646,  James  fell  into  the  hands  of 
Fairfax,  and  was  shortly  afterward,  with  the  Duke 
of  Gloucester  and  the  Princess  Elizabeth,  sent 
back  to  his  old  quarters  in  St.  James's  Palace. 
The  story  of  his  romantic  escape  is  well  known, 
and  the  manner  in  which  he  effected  it  does  great 
credit  to  the  ingenuity  and  presence  of  mind  of 
one  so  young,  for  he  had  not  yet  completed  his 
fifteenth  year.  Having,  on  two  previous  occasions, 
been  discovered  in  attempts  to  effect  his  escape, 
he  had  ever  since  been  watched  with  the  closest 
care,  which  of  course  rendered  the  third  essay  the 
more  hazardous.  The  principal  persons  in  his 
secret  were  Colonel  Bamfield  and  a  Mr.  George 
Howard,  by  whom  the  necessary  preparations  were 
made  for  his  flight.  "All  things,"  we  are  told, 
"being  in  readiness,  the  duke  went  to  supper  at 
his  usual  hour,  which  was  about  seven,  in  the 
company  of  his  brother  and  sister,  and  when  sup- 
per was  ended  they  went  to  play  at  hide  and  seek 
with  the  rest  of  the  young  people  in  the  house. 
At  this  childish  sport  the  duke  had  accustomed 
himself  to  play  for  a  fortnight  together  every  night, 


1 88  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

and  had  used  to  hide  himself  in  places  so  difficult 
to  find  that  most  commonly  they  were  half  an 
hour  in  searching  for  him,  at  the  end  of  which 
time  he  came  usually  out  to  them  of  his  own 
accord.  This  blind  he  laid  for  his  design  that 
they  might  be  accustomed  to  miss  him,  before  he 
really  intended  his  escape ;  by  which  means,  when 
he  came  to  practise  it  in  earnest,  he  was  secure  of 
gaining  that  half-hour  before  they  could  reasonably 
suspect  he  was  gone. 

"  His  intention  had  all  the  effect  he  could  desire ; 
for  that  night,  as  soon  as  they  began  their  play,  he 
pretended,  according  to  his  custom,  to  hide  him- 
self. But  instead  of  so  doing,  he  went  first  into 
his  sister's  chamber  and  there  locked  up  a  little 
dog  that  used  to  follow  him,  that  he  might  not  be 
discovered  by  him ;  then,  slipping  down  a  pair  of 
back  stairs,  which  led  into  the  inmost  garden, 
having  found  means  beforehand  to  furnish  himself 
with  a  key  of  a  back  door  from  the  said  garden 
into  the  park,  he  there  found  Bamfield,  who  was 
ready  to  receive  him,  and  waited  there  with  a  foot- 
man, who  brought  a  cloak,  which  he  threw  over 
him,  and  put  on  a  periwig.  From  thence  they 
went  through  the  Spring  Garden,  where  one  Mr. 
Tripp  was  ready  with  a  hackney-coach,  which 
carried  them  to  Salisbury  House."  Pretending 
that  they  had  business  here,  the  fugitives  alighted 
from  the  coach,  but  no  sooner  was  the  driver  out 
of  sight  than  they  proceeded  on  foot  down  Ivy 


ST.   JAMES'S  PALACE.  189 

Lane  to  the  river's  side,  where  they  hired  a  boat, 
and  landed  on  the  south  side  of  London  Bridge. 
From  hence  they  hastened  to  the  house  of  one 
Loe,  a  surgeon,  where  a  Mrs.  Murray  was  expecting 
them  with  a  suit  of  female  apparel,  in  which  she 
rapidly  attired  the  duke.  Bamfield  had  hired  a 
large  row-barge  with  a  cabin  in  it,  in  which  they 
proposed  to  proceed  down  the  river,  below  Graves- 
end,  where  a  Dutch  vessel  was  in  readiness  to  sail 
with  them  at  a  moment's  notice.  An  accident, 
however,  occurred,  which  very  nearly  frustrated 
their  plans.  The  owner  of  the  barge  taking  it 
into  his  head  that  the  duke  was  some  disguised 
person  of  high  rank,  peeped  through  a  cranny  in 
the  cabin-door,  where  he  perceived  the  young 
prince  with  his  leg  on  the  table,  tying  his  garters 
in  so  unfeminine  a  manner  that  his  suspicions 
were  completely  aroused.  Bamfield,  subsequently 
discovering  by  the  change  in  the  man's  manner, 
and  the  disinclination  which  he  expressed  to  pro- 
ceed farther  than  Gravesend,  that  he  was  aware  of 
at  least  a  part  of  their  secret,  contrived  to  pur- 
chase his  silence  by  a  considerable  sum  of  money. 
Accordingly,  on  approaching  Gravesend,  they  ex- 
tinguished their  lights,  and,  lest  the  sound  of  the 
oars  might  discover  them,  floated  past  the  town 
with  the  tide.  They  were  fortunate  enough  to  fall 
in  with  the  vessel  which  was  expecting  them,  and, 
after  a  prosperous  voyage,  arrived  in  safety  at 
Middleburg  in  Holland. 


190  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

After  the  Restoration,  James  kept  his  court  at 
St.  James's,  and  here  several  of  his  children  were 
born.  Here,  also,  his  first  wife,  Anne  Hyde, 
breathed  her  last,  under  circumstances  which, 
when  they  became  known,  excited  an  extraordinary 
sensation.  It  had  sometimes  been  whispered  that 
she  had  forsaken  the  Protestant  faith,  but  it  was 
not  till  she  was  on  her  death-bed  that  she  expressed 
herself  "  convinced  and  reconciled  "  to  the  Church 
of  Rome,  and  received  the  sacraments  of  that  faith. 
Of  her  two  brothers,  the  Earl  of  Rochester  and 
Lord  Cornbury,  the  former  expressed  his  disbelief 
in  her  apostasy,  and  visited  her  in  her  last  moments, 
but  the  latter,  a  zealous  Protestant,  absented  him- 
self altogether  from  her  sick-chamber.  Shortly 
before  she  breathed  her  last,  she  requested  the 
duke,  her  husband,  not  to  stir  from  her  bedside 
till  life  had  departed ;  at  the  same  time  enjoining 
him  should  any  Protestant  bishops  attempt  to  enter 
her  apartment,  to  explain  to  them  that  she  died 
immovably  fixed  in  the  Roman  Catholic  faith,  and 
consequently  that  it  would  be  useless  to  weary  her 
with  controversial  discussions.  Some  time  after- 
ward, Doctor  Blandford,  Bishop  of  Worcester,  came 
to  St.  James's  to  pay  her  a  visit.  He  was  previ- 
ously received  in  the  drawing-room  by  the  duke, 
who  acquainted  him  with  the  state  of  her  mind, 
and  her  earnest  wish  not  to  be  disturbed  in  her 
last  moments.  On  subsequently  being  ushered 
into  her  apartment,  he  found  the  queen  of  Charles 


ST.   JAMES'S  PALACE.  191 

the  Second,  Catherine  of  Braganza,  seated  by  the 
bedside  of  the  expiring  duchess.  "Blandford," 
says  Burnet,  "  was  so  modest  and  humble  that  he 
had  not  presence  of  mind  enough  to  begin  prayers, 
which  probably  would  have  driven  the  queen  out 
of  the  room  ;  but  that  not  being  done,  she  pre- 
tended kindness,  and  would  not  leave  her.  He 
happened  to  say,  '  I  hope  you  continue  still  in  the 
truth  ;  upon  which  she  asked,  '  What  is  truth  ? ' 
And  then  her  agony  increasing,  she  repeated  the 
word,  'Truth,  truth,  truth,'  often."  A  few  min- 
utes afterward  she  expired.  Her  death  took  place 
on  the  3ist  of  March,  1671,  at  the  age  of  thirty- 
three. 

James,  after  the  death  of  his  first  wife,  appears 
to  have  occasionally  resided  at  St.  James's  with 
his  second  duchess,  the  young  and  interesting  Mary 
of  Modena ;  and  here,  after  his  accession  to  the 
throne  on  the  loth  of  June,  1688,  occurred  that 
memorable  event,  the  birth  of  James  Edward,  after- 
ward called  the  "  Old  Pretender."  The  apartment 
in  which  this  unfortunate  prince  first  saw  the  light, 
and  which  was  the  scene  of  the  celebrated  warm- 
ing-pan story,  is  minutely  described  by  Pennant. 
It  is  needless  to  remind  the  reader  that  the  fact  of 
the  queen's  pregnancy  was  openly  called  in  ques- 
tion by  the  king's  enemies,  and  that  it  was  insisted 
that,  in  order  to  rear  up  a  popish  heir  to  the  throne, 
James  had  caused  the  new-born  infant  of  some 
other  woman  to  be  introduced  into  the  queen's  bed 


192  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

in  a  warming-pan.  "The  young  prince,"  says 
Pennant,  "  was  born  in  the  room  now  called  the  old 
bedchamber,  at  present  the  antechamber  to  the 
levee-room.  The  bed  stood  close  to  the  door  of  a 
back  stairs,  which  descended  to  an  inner  court. 
It  certainly  was  very  convenient  to  carry  on  any 
secret  design,  and  might  favour  the  silly  warming- 
pan  story,  were  not  the  bed  surrounded  by  twenty  of 
the  Privy  Council,  four  other  men  of  rank,  twenty 
ladies,  besides  pages  and  other  attendants." 

Although  William  the  Third  never  held  his 
court  for  any  length  of  time  at  St.  James's,  the 
old  palace  is  nevertheless  intimately  associated 
with  his  history  and  with  that  of  his  queen. 
Mary  was  born  here  on  the  3Oth  of  April,  1662  ; 
and  here  she  was  married  to  her  Dutch  consort  at 
eleven  o'clock  at  night,  on  the  4th  of  November, 
1677,  Charles  the  Second  giving  the  bride  away, 
and  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of  York  and  a  large 
assemblage  of  the  courtiers  and  nobility  being 
present. 

After  his  successful  invasion  of  England,  in 
1688,  St.  James's  was  the  place  where  William 
took  up  his  abode  immediately  on  his  arrival  in 
London  ;  and  here  he  continued  to  reside  till  the 
nation  decided  on  elevating  him  to  the  throne. 
His  court  at  St.  James's  at  this  period  must  have 
been  sufficiently  gloomy.  He  seems  to  have  sel- 
dom quitted  the  walls  of  the  palace ;  indeed,  Bur- 
net  tells  us  "his  stay  so  long  at  St.  James's, 


ST.   JAMES'S  PALACE.  193 

without  exercise  or  hunting  (which  was  so  much 
used  by  him  that  it  was  become  necessary),  had 
brought  him  under  such  a  weakness  that  it  was 
likely  to  have  very  ill  effects."  Carte,  the  histo- 
rian, was  assured,  in  1724,  by  a  Mr.  Dillon,  that 
the  latter  in  his  youth  had  frequently  attended  at 
St.  James's,  when  the  king  dined  in  public,  and 
that  on  no  single  occasion  had  he  known  an  Eng- 
lish nobleman  to  be  invited  to  the  royal  table. 
He  added,  on  the  other  hand,  that  the  Duke  of 
Schomberg,  and  others  of  the  Dutch  general 
officers,  were  frequently  the  king's  guests ;  on 
which  occasions  Schomberg  invariably  sat  at  the 
king's  right  hand.  During  these  state  repasts, 
while  the  Dutch  officers  were  feasting  with  their 
stadtholder,  the  English  nobility,  who  were  in  the 
royal  household,  were  compelled  to  stand,  as  state 
menials,  behind  the  king's  chair.  Dillon  further 
added  that,  on  the  several  occasions  of  his  being 
present  when  the  king  dined  in  public  at  St. 
James's,  he  never  remembered  to  have  heard  him 
utter  a  word.  He  once  asked  Keppel  whether  his 
master  was  always  so  silent ;  to  which  the  other 
replied  that  the  king  talked  enough  at  night,  when 
seated  over  a  bottle  of  wine  with  his  friends. 

Queen  Anne  was  born  in  St.  James's  Palace  on 
the  6th  of  February,  1665,  and  was  married  here, 
in  the  Chapel  Royal,  to  Prince  George  of  Den- 
mark, on  the  28th  of  July,  1683.  She  was  allowed 
to  keep  her  court  at  St.  James's  during  the  latter 


194  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

part  of  the  reign  of  King  William  ;  and  we  find 
her  residing  here  at  the  time  when  Bishop  Burnet 
brought  her  the  tidings  of  the  death  of  her 
brother-in-law,  and,  consequently,  of  her  own  ac- 
cession to  the  throne.  After  the  death  of  her 
consort  at  Kensington,  when  that  place  had  be- 
come painful  to  her  from  its  associations,  she 
removed  to  St.  James's  to  indulge  her  grief ; 
and  here  we  find  her  frequently  keeping  her 
court  during  her  reign. 

George  the  First  and  George  the  Second  con- 
stantly resided,  and  kept  their  courts,  at  St. 
James's.  George  the  Third  also  kept  his  court 
here,  but  his  domestic  apartments  were  in  the 
queen's  residence,  Buckingham  Palace. 

George  the  First,  on  his  accession  to  the 
throne,  was  conducted,  immediately  on  his  arrival 
in  London,  to  St.  James's  Palace.  "  This  is  a 
strange  country,"  he  remarked  afterward;  "the 
first  morning  after  my  arrival  at  St.  James's  I 
looked  out  of  the  window,  and  saw  a  park  with 
walks,  and  a  canal,  which  they  told  me  were  mine. 
The  next  day  Lord  Chetwynd,  the  ranger  of  my 
park,  sent  me  a  fine  brace  of  carp  out  of  my  canal ; 
and  I  was  told  I  must  give  five  guineas  to  Lord 
Chetwynd's  servant  for  bringing  me  my  own  carp, 
out  of  my  own  canal,  in  my  own  park." 

George  the  First's  mistress,  the  well-known  and 
ungainly  Duchess  of  Kendal,  was  located  with  her 
royal  lover  at  St.  James's.  Horace  Walpole  in- 


ST.   JAMES'S  PALACE.  195 

forms  us  that  her  apartments  were  on  the  ground 
floor,  looking  into  the  garden  ;  apartments  which, 
after  the  king's  death,  were  successively  inhabited 
by  the  celebrated  mistresses  of  his  son  and  suc- 
cessor, the  Countesses  of  Yarmouth  and  Suffolk. 
Shortly  before  his  death,  George  the  First  estab- 
lished a  young  mistress  at  St.  James's,  Anne 
Brett,  a  daughter  of  the  repudiated  Countess  of 
Macclesfield  by  her  second  husband,  and  a  sister 
of  the  unfortunate  Savage,  the  poet.  Her  apart- 
ments also  were  on  the  ground  floor  of  the  palace, 
overlooking  the  garden,  adjoining  those  of  the  king's 
granddaughters,  the  Princesses  Anne,  Amelia,  and 
Elizabeth.  When  the  king  departed  on  his  last 
journey  to  Hanover,  from  whence  he  never  re- 
turned, Miss  Brett,  we  are  told,  ordered  a  door 
to  be  opened  from  one  of  her  apartments  into  the 
palace  garden.  The  Princess  Anne,  unwilling 
to  have  such  a  companion  in  her  walks,  ordered 
the  wall  to  be  built  up  again.  The  command  was 
imperiously  reversed  by  Miss  Brett,  but  while  the 
dispute  was  still  at  issue  the  news  arrived  of 
the  king's  death,  and  at  once  put  an  end  to  the 
short  reign  of  the  haughty  courtesan. 

George  the  Second,  when  Prince  of  Wales,  re- 
sided with  his  family  in  St.  James's  Palace,  till 
his  memorable  quarrel  with  his  father  in  1717.  It 
was  in  one  of  the  apartments  of  the  palace  —  the 
bedchamber  of  the  Princess  of  Wales  —  that  the 
fracas  took  place  which  led  to  their  estrangement. 


196  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

The  quarrel,  as  is  well  known,  originated  in  some 
unpleasant  circumstances  connected  with  the  chris- 
tening of  one  of  the  prince's  children.  The  prince 
had  proposed  that  the  king  and  his  uncle,  the 
Bishop  of  Osnaburgh,  should  stand  godfathers  to 
his  infant  child.  The  selection  was  clearly  an 
unexceptionable  one,  and,  consequently,  the  prince 
was  not  a  little  irritated,  when  the  king,  after  con- 
senting to  accept  the  office  for  himself,  nominated 
the  Duke  of  Newcastle,  a  nobleman  who  was 
personally  disagreeable  to  the  prince,  as  his  col- 
league on  the  occasion.  The  company  assembled 
in  the  bedchamber  of  the  princess,  and  the  scene 
which  followed  is  described  by  Walpole  in  his 
usual  happy  manner.  "  Lady  Suffolk,"  he  says, 
"  then  in  waiting  as  woman  of  the  bedchamber, 
and  of  most  accurate  memory,  painted  the  scene 
to  me  exactly.  On  one  side  of  the  bed  stood 
the  godfathers  and  godmother ;  on  the  other  the 
prince  and  princess's  ladies.  No  sooner  had  the 
bishop  closed  the  ceremony,  than  the  prince, 
crossing  the  feet  of  the  bed  in  a  rage,  stepped  up 
to  the  Duke  of  Newcastle,  and,  holding  up  his 
hand  and  forefinger  in  a  menacing  attitude,  said, 
'  You  are  a  rascal,  but  I  shall  find  you  ; '  meaning, 
in  broken  English,  I  shall  find  a  time  to  be  re- 
venged. What  was  my  astonishment,"  continued 
Lady  Suffolk,  "when  going  to  the  princess's 
apartment  the  next  morning,  the  yeomen  in  the 
guard-chamber  pointed  their  halberts  at  my  breast, 


ST.    JAMES'S  PALACE.  197 

and  told  me  I  must  not  pass.  I  urged  that  it  was 
my  duty  to  attend  the  princess  ;  they  said,  '  No 
matter,  I  must  not  pass  that  way.'  In  one  word 
the  king  had  been  so  provoked  at  the  prince's 
outrage  in  his  presence,  that  it  had  been  deter- 
mined to  put  a  still  greater  insult  on  his  Royal 
Highness.  His  threat  to  the  duke  was  pretended 
to  be  understood  as  a  challenge,  and  to  prevent  a 
duel  he  had  been  actually  put  under  arrest !  As  if 
a  Prince  of  Wales  could  stoop  to  fight  with  a  sub- 
ject !  The  arrest  was  soon  taken  off,  but  at  night 
the  prince  and  princess  were  ordered  to  leave  the 
palace."  The  child  who  was  the  innocent  cause 
of  the  quarrel  between  the  prince  and  his  father, 
was  christened  George  William,  and  survived  its 
birth  scarcely  three  months,  dying  on  the  6th  of 
February,  1718.  Singularly  enough,  it  fell  to  the 
lot  of  the  Duke  of  Newcastle,  as  lord  chamber- 
lain, to  superintend  the  funeral  obsequies  of  the 
deceased  child.  It  was  on  this  occasion  observed 
that  the  duke  had  twice  the  honour  to  introduce 
the  royal  infant  into  the  Church,  —  once  into  the 
bosom,  and  once  into  the  bowels  of  it. 

On  the  2Oth  of  November,  1737,  Queen  Caro- 
line, the  strong-minded  and  beloved  queen  of 
George  the  Second,  breathed  her  last  in  St. 
James's  Palace.  She  was  seized  with  her  fatal 
illness  while  walking  in  the  garden  of  the  palace. 
During  the  eleven  days  which  preceded  her  dissolu- 
tion, though  enduring  almost  intolerable  agony, 


198  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

her  fortitude  remained  unshaken ;  her  gentleness 
and  courtesy  to  those  who  surrounded  her  sick- 
bed drew  tears  from  every  eye ;  she  expressed 
herself  resigned  to  the  will  of  God,  and  grateful 
for  his  dispensations ;  and,  in  the  most  pathetic 
manner,  recommended  her  servants  to  the  care 
and  protection  of  her  heart-broken  husband. 
Shortly  before  her  dissolution,  she  inquired  of 
one  of  her  physicians,  "  How  long  can  this  last  ?  " 
and  on  his  answering,  "  Your  Majesty  will  soon  be 
eased  of  your  pains,"  "The  sooner  the  better," 
she  replied.  She  then  composed  herself  to  prayer, 
but  finding  her  speech  failing  her,  she  desired  to 
be  raised  up  in  bed,  and  on  two  occasions  re- 
quested that  some  cold  water  might  be  sprinkled 
over  her.  Some  minutes  before  she  expired,  she 
expressed  a  wish  that  the  weeping  bystanders 
should  kneel  down  and  pray  for  her.  While  they 
were  thus  engaged,  she  exclaimed,  "  Pray  aloud, 
that  I  may  hear  you."  She  joined  them,  in  a  faint 
voice,  in  repeating  the  Lord's  Prayer,  and,  at  its 
conclusion,  waving  her  hand,  and  endeavouring 
to  give  utterance  to  some  indistinct  expression, 
expired. 

At  St.  James's,  Frederick,  Prince  of  Wales,  was 
married  to  the  Princess  Augusta  of  Saxe-Gotha, 
on  the  26th  of  April,  1736.  A  mutual  antipathy 
between  the  sovereign  and  the  heir  to  the  throne 
seems  to  be  a  hereditary  failing  in  the  house  of 
Hanover.  When  Frederick  in  his  turn  quarrelled 


ST.   JAMES'S  PALACE. 

with  the  king,  his  father,  St.  James's  again  became 
the  scene  of  these  disgraceful  family  squabbles. 
From  a  feeling  of  spite  to  his  father,  Frederick, 
when  his  princess  was  actually  in  the  very  pains 
of  childbirth,  hurried  her  away  from  Hampton 
Court,  where  every  preparation  had  been  made  for 
her  lying-in,  and  carried  her,  in  the  middle  of  the 
night,  to  an  unaired  bed  at  St.  James's.  On 
the  arrival  of  the  princess  at  the  palace,  the  prime 
minister,  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and  the 
different  officers  of  state,  were  sent  for  with  the 
utmost  despatch,  to  be  present  at  her  delivery, 
but  before  their  arrival  she  had  given  birth  to  a 
child.  It  is  remarkable  that  on  the  arrival  of  the 
princess,  in  consequence  of  the  absence  of  the  ser- 
vants of  the  palace,  Frederick  and  his  mistress, 
Lady  Archibald  Hamilton,  were  compelled  to  air 
the  sheets  for  her  bed.  Queen  Caroline  arrived 
the  next  morning  at  St.  James's,  and  upbraided 
her  son  in  no  gentle  terms  for  his  brutal  conduct. 
Walpole  tells  us  that  the  prince  maintained  a  sulky 
silence,  and,  at  the  queen's  departure,  offered  her 
his  hand,  without  uttering  a  word,  to  conduct  her 
to  her  coach  at  the  gate  of  the  palace.  Finding, 
however,  a  crowd  assembled  around  the  carriage, 
he  knelt  down  in  the  dirt  and  humbly  kissed  her 
Majesty's  hand.  "  Her  indignation,"  adds  Walpole, 
"  must  have  shrunk  into  contempt !  " 

In  November,  1/33,  Anne,  the  eldest  daughter 
of  George  the  Second  and  Queen  Caroline,  was 


200  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

married  in  the  Chapel  Royal  of  St.  James's  to 
the  Prince  of  Orange,  a  man  the  hideousness  of 
whose  appearance  is  said  to  have  been  only 
exceeded  by  some  monster  in  a  pantomime,  or 
some  ogre  in  a  fairy  tale.  In  giving  him  her 
hand,  the  princess  seems  to  have  been  entirely 
influenced  by  a  feminine  love  of  power  and  rule. 
To  her  mother  she  once  observed,  "I  would  die 
to-morrow  to  be  a  queen  to-day ; "  and  when  her 
father  spoke  affectionately  to  her  of  the  ungain- 
liness  of  her  lover's  appearance,  and  told  her  it 
was  not  yet  too  late  to  recede,  "I  would  marry 
him,"  she  said,  "even  if  he  were  a  baboon."  The 
subsequent  story  of  the  princess  and  her  lover  is 
that  of  the  "  Beauty  and  the  Beast "  over  again. 
Lord  Chesterfield  tells  us  that  he  had  as  many 
"  great  and  good  "  qualities  as  any  of  his  ances- 
tors ;  and,  accordingly,  notwithstanding  his  revolt- 
ing ugliness,  the  princess  not  only  grew  extremely 
fond  of  her  husband,  but  is  said  to  have  been 
sensibly  alive  to  his  attentions  to  other  women. 
We  have  some  account  of  their  marriage  ceremony 
at  St.  James's.  The  prince  is  described  as  having 
been  habited  in  a  suit  of  cloth  of  gold  ;  the  prin- 
cess in  a  robe  of  silver  tissue,  her  train,  which 
was  six  yards  long,  being  supported  by  ten  young 
ladies,  the  daughters  of  dukes  and  earls,  with 
dresses  of  similar  materials  to  her  own.  At  twelve 
o'clock  the  bride  and  bridegroom  supped  in  public 
with  the  royal  family,  and  shortly  afterward  re- 


ST.  JAMES'S  PALACE.  2OI 

ceived  company  in  bed.  The  present  public  mode 
of  marriage  is  indecent  enough,  but  is  chaste 
compared  with  the  license  permitted  by  our  fore- 
fathers. The  last  occasion,  we  believe,  in  this 
country,  on  which  a  new-married  couple  received 
company  in  bed,  was  at  the  marriage  in  1797  of 
the  Queen  of  Wirtemberg,  sister  of  the  late  king, 
who  often  related  the  anecdote.  Probably  the 
custom  may  still  be  not  uncommon  in  many  parts 
of  the  Continent,  for  I  remember  being  a  guest  at 
a  marriage  in  Norway,  where  the  last  words  which 
we  heard  on  parting  at  night  were  an  invitation 
to  congratulate  the  bride  and  bridegroom  in  bed 
on  the  following  morning. 

A  far  more  interesting  personage  than  the  Prin- 
cess of  Orange  was  her  sister,  the  Princess  Caro- 
line, third  daughter  of  George  the  Second.  This 
amiable,  feminine,  and  interesting  princess  is  known 
to  have  fallen  hopelessly  in  love  with  the  celebrated 
John,  Lord  Hervey.  After  his  death  she  shut  her- 
self up  in  two  rooms  in  one  of  the  inner  courts  of 
St.  James's  Palace,  where,  excluded  from  the  view 
of  all  passing  objects,  she  admitted  the  visits  of  a 
very  few  only  of  her  nearest  relations  and  most 
cherished  friends.  In  this  seclusion  she  almost 
entirely  occupied  herself  with  her  religious  duties, 
dispensing  almost  her  whole  income  in  acts  of 
charity  and  generosity,  and  calmly  preparing  for 
her  end.  Her  constant  prayer  was  for  death. 
When  urged  to  accede  to  some  proposition  to 


202  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

which  she  was  extremely  averse,  "  I  would  not  do 
it,"  she  said,  "  to  die ! "  Her  death  took  place 
at  St.  James's  on  the  28th  of  December,  1757,  in 
the  forty-fifth  year  of  her  age.  In  her  last  illness 
she  expressed  the  same  earnest  desire  to  quit  the 
world.  When  the  pain  occasioned  by  her  disorder 
had  ceased,  in  consequence  of  mortification  having 
commenced,  "  I  feared,"  she  said,  "  I  should  not 
have  died  of  this." 

The  last  of  the  royal  family  of  England,  of 
the  past  age,  whose  name  is  associated  with  St. 
James's  Palace,  is  the  gentle  and  amiable  Princess 
Mary,  fourth  daughter  of  George  the  Second,  who 
was  married  here  on  the  8th  of  May,  1740,  in  the 
Chapel  Royal,  to  an  illiterate  and  ill-tempered  Ger- 
man, Frederick,  hereditary  Prince  of  Hesse-Cassel. 
Shortly  after  their  marriage  he  carried  his  charm- 
ing wife  with  him  to  his  German  dominions,  where, 
after  more  than  thirty  years  embittered  by  his 
unceasing  brutalities,  she  expired  on  the  I4th  of 
June,  1771. 

We  have  little  more  to  add  to  our  reminiscences 
of  St.  James's  Palace.  We  must  not  forget,  how- 
ever, to  mention  the  German  Chapel,  —  situated  in 
the  open  space  between  St.  James's  and  Marl- 
borough  House,  —  which  was  originally  built  as  a 
Roman  Catholic  place  of  worship,  for  the  use  of 
Henrietta  Maria,  after  her  marriage  to  Charles  the 
First.  The  imprudent  erection  of  this  chapel  in 
a  puritanical  age  is  intimately  connected  with  the 


ST.   JAMES'S  PALACE.  203 

domestic  dissensions  of  Charles,  and  gave  great 
offence  to  his  subjects.  To  Charles,  the  number 
of  Roman  Catholic  priests  who  accompanied  Hen- 
rietta to  England,  and  their  interference  in  his 
private  concerns,  were  especially  disagreeable. 
When,  on  one  occasion,  they  sent  to  complain 
to  him  that  the  chapel  at  St.  James's  was  pro- 
gressing but  slowly  toward  completion,  "Tell 
them,"  he  said,  petulantly,  "  that  if  the  queen's 
closet  (where  they  then  said  mass)  is  not  large 
enough,  they  may  use  the  great  chamber ;  and  if 
the  great  chamber  is  not  wide  enough,  they  may 
make  use  of  the  garden  ;  and  if  the  garden  will 
not  suit  their  purpose,  they  may  go  to  the  park, 
which  is  the  fittest  place  of  all."  This  last  re- 
mark, it  would  seem,  did  not  so  much  apply  to  the 
number  of  French  Catholics  in  general,  as  to  the 
number  of  English  priests,  who  seized  every  oppor- 
tunity of  attending  the  celebration  of  mass.  This 
assemblage  eventually  became  so  numerous  that 
even  the  queen  herself,  on  one  occasion,  rose  from 
her  seat,  and,  rebuking  the  latter  for  their  improper 
zeal,  peremptorily  commanded  them  to  retire. 
Their  numbers,  however,  continuing  to  increase, 
the  officers  of  the  court  were  stationed  at  the 
entrance  of  the  chapel  in  order  forcibly  to  prevent 
their  ingress.  Some  indecent  scenes  were  the 
consequence,  the  French  Catholics  drawing  their 
swords  in  defence  of  their  English  brethren,  and 
resisting  the  interference  of  the  guard. 


204  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

It  was  in  the  chapel  at  St.  James's,  then  styled 
the  queen's  chapel,  that  James  the  Second,  two 
days  after  the  death  of  his  brother  Charles,  openly 
insulted  the  prejudices  of  his  people,  and  infringed 
the  sanctity  of  the  laws  by  publicly,  attending 
mass,  surrounded  by  all  the  insignia  of  royalty 
and  the  splendid  paraphernalia  of  the  Romish 
Church.  He  was  attended,  both  to  and  from  the 
chapel,  by  the  band  of  gentlemen  pensioners,  his 
life-guards,  several  of  the  nobility,  as  well  as  by 
the  Knights  of  the  Garter,  in  the  collars  of  their 
order.  It  was  on  this  occasion  that  the  Duke  of 
Norfolk,  whose  office  it  was  to  carry  the  sword 
of  state,  stopped  short  when  he  came  to  the  door 
of  the  chapel,  with  the  evident  intention  of  pro- 
ceeding no  farther.  James  was  much  discon- 
certed. "  My  lord,"  he  said,  "  your  father  would 
have  gone  farther."  "Your  Majesty's  father,"* 
replied  the  duke,  "  would  not  have  gone  so  far." 

We  must  not  forget  to  mention  that  the  last 
London  residence  of  Charles  James  Fox  was  in 
Stable  Yard,  St.  James's,  and  that  here  his  re- 
mains were  brought  from  the  Duke  of  Devon- 
shire's villa  at  Chiswick,  where  he  died,  previous 
to  the  ceremony  of  their  interment  in  Westminster 
Abbey. 

When  Peter  the  Great  was  in  this  country,  he 
once  observed  to  William  the  Third  that,  were 
he  King  of  England,  he  would  convert  Greenwich 
Hospital  into  a  palace,  and  St.  James's  into  a 


ST.   JAMES'S  PALACE.  2OJ 

hospital.  Notwithstanding,  however,  its  discredit- 
able appearance,  St.  James's  Palace  is  said  to  be 
the  most  commodious  for  the  purposes  of  a  court, 
and  regal  parade,  of  any  palace  in  Europe.  It 
may  be  mentioned  that,  on  the  2ist  of  June,  1809, 
a  great  fire  broke  out  in  the  palace,  which  de- 
stroyed the  whole  of  the  east  wing  of  the  inner 
courtyard. 


CHAPTER    IX. 
ST.  JAMES'S  PARK. 

Original  Enclosure  —  Charles  Going  to  Execution  —  Cromwell 
—  Skating  —  Game  of  Pall-mall  —  Charles  the  Second  — 
Queen  Anne  —  Marlborough  House  —  The  Mall  —  Spring 
Gardens  —  Buckingham  House. 

ST.  JAMES'S  PARK  was  originally  enclosed  by 
Henry  the  Eighth,  shortly  after  he  purchased  the 
hospital  of  St.  James's,  and  the  fields  attached  to  it. 
The  wall,  or  rather  paling,  of  the  park  formerly 
ran  where  the  houses  on  the  south  side  of  Pall 
Mall  now  stand.  Charles  the  Second  removed  it 
to  its  present  boundary,  and,  under  the  direction 
of  the  celebrated  French  gardener,  Le  Notre, 
planted  the  avenues  and  disposed  the  trees  as 
we  now  see  them.  The  Bird-cage  Walk  was  the 
favourite  aviary  of  that  monarch,  and  derives  its 
name  from  the  cages  which  were  hung  in  the 
trees.  Charles  also  formed  the  canal,  and  in  his 
reign  Duck  Island  took  its  name  from  being  the 
breeding-place  of  the  numerous  water-fowl  with 
which  the  park  was  stocked.  The  government  of 
Duck  Island  was  once  enjoyed,  with  a  small  sal- 
ary, by  the  celebrated  St.  Evremond.  Pennant 

206 


ST.   JAMES'S  PARK.  207 

speaks  of  it  as  "the  first  and  last  government," 
but  he  is  mistaken  in  the  fact,  it  having  previously 
been  conferred  by  Charles  the  Second  on  Sir 
John  Flock,  a  person  of  good  family,  and  a  com- 
panion of  the  king  during  his  exile.  Horace  Wai- 
pole  writes  to  Sir  Horace  Mann,  on  the  gih  of 
February,  1751  :  "My  Lord  Pomfret  is  made 
ranger  of  the  parks,  and,  by  consequence,  my 
lady  is  queen  of  the  Duck  Island."  This  little 
island,  which  stood  at  the  west  end  of  the  canal, 
was  destroyed  when  some  alterations  were  made 
in  the  park  in  1770. 

Another  interesting  feature  of  St.  James's  Park, 
which  disappeared  at  the  same  time,  was  Rosa- 
mond's Pond,  situated  opposite  to  James  Street, 
Westminster,  at  the  southwest  corner  of  the 
park.  Its  romantic  appearance,  the  irregularity 
of  the  ground,  the  trees  which  overshadowed  it, 
and  the  view  of  the  venerable  abbey,  rendered 
it,  we  are  told,  a  favourite  resort  of  the  contem- 
plative ;  while  its  secluded  and  melancholy  situa- 
tion is  said  to  have  tempted  a  greater  number  of 
persons  to  commit  suicide,  especially  unfortunate 
females,  than  any  other  place  in  London. 

St.  James's  Park  is  replete  with  historical  as- 
sociations, and  not  the  least  interesting  is  its 
having  been  the  scene  where  Charles  the  First 
passed  on  foot,  on  the  morning  of  his  execution, 
from  his  bedchamber  in  St.  James's  Palace  to  the 
scaffold  at  Whitehall.  Colonel  Hacker  having 


208  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

knocked  at  his  door,  and  informed  him  that  it 
was  time  to  depart,  Charles  took  Bishop  Juxon 
by  the  hand,  and  bidding  his  faithful  attendant 
Herbert  bring  with  him  his  silver  clock,  intimated 
to  Hacker,  with  a  cheerful  countenance,  that  he 
was  ready  to  accompany  him.  As  he  passed 
through  the  palace  garden  into  the  park,  he  in- 
quired of  Herbert  the  hour  of  the  day,  and  after- 
ward bade  him  keep  the  clock  for  his  sake.  The 
procession  was  a  remarkable  one.  On  each  side 
of  the  king  was  arranged  a  line  of  soldiers, 
and  before  him  and  behind  him  were  a  guard  of 
halberdiers,  their  drums  beating  and  colours  fly- 
ing. On  his  right  hand  was  Bishop  Juxon,  and  on 
his  left  hand  Colonel  Tomlinson,  both  bareheaded. 
There  is  a  tradition  that,  during  his  walk,  he 
pointed  out  a  tree,  not  far  from  the  entrance  to 
Spring  Gardens  (close  to  the  spot  which  is  now 
a  well-known  station  for  cows),  which  he  said  had 
been  planted  by  his  brother  Henry.  He  was  sub- 
jected to  more  than  one  annoyance  during  his 
progress.  One  ruffianly  fanatic  officer,  in  par- 
ticular, inquired  of  him,  with  insulting  brutality, 
whether  it  were  true  that  he  had  been  cognisant 
of  his  father's  murder.  Another  fanatic,  a  "  mean 
citizen,"  as  he  is  styled  by  Fuller,  was  perceived 
to  walk  close  by  his  side,  and  keep  his  eyes  con- 
stantly fixed  on  the  king,  with  an  expression  of 
particular  malignity.  Charles  merely  turned  away 
his  face;  and  eventually  the  man  was  pushed 


ST.   JAMES'S  PARK.  209 

away  by  the  more  feeling  among  the  king's  per- 
secutors. The  guards  marching  at  a  slow  pace, 
the  king  desired  them  to  proceed  faster.  "  I 
go,"  he  said,  "to  strive  for  a  heavenly  crown, 
with  less  solicitude  than  I  have  formerly  en- 
couraged my  soldiers  to  fight  for  an  earthly  one." 
However,  the  noise  of  the  drums  rendered  con- 
versation extremely  difficult.  On  reaching  the 
spot  where  the  Horse  Guards  now  stands,  Charles 
ascended  a  staircase  which  then  opened  into  the 
park,  and  passing  along  the  famous  gallery  which 
at  that  time  ran  across  the  street,  was  conducted 
to  his  usual  bedchamber  at  Whitehall,  where  he 
continued  till  summoned  by  Hacker  to  the  scaf- 
fold. 

With  reference  to  the  passage  of  Charles  the 
First  through  St.  James's  Park  on  the  morning 
of  his  execution,  we  are  enabled  to  lay  before  the 
reader  the  following  interesting  extract  from  a 
letter  preserved  in  the  British  Museum,  which  has 
not  hitherto  appeared  in  print :  "  This  day  his 
Majesty  died  upon  a  scaffold  at  Whitehall.  His 
children  were  with  him  last  night :  to  the  Duke 
of  Gloucester  he  gave  his  George ;  to  the  lady 
[the  Princess  Elizabeth],  his  ring  off  his  finger  : 
he  told  them  his  subjects  had  many  things  to 
give  their  children,  but  that  was  all  he  had  to 
give  them.  This  day,  about  one  o'clock,  he  came 
from  St.  James's  in  a  long  black  cloak  and  gray 
stockings.  The  palsgrave  came  through  the  park 


210  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

with  him.  He  was  faint,  and  was  forced  to  sit 
down  and  rest  him  in  the  park.  He  went  into 
Whitehall  the  usual  way  out  of  the  park  ;  and  so 
came  out  of  the  Banqueting-house  upon  planks, 
made  purposely,  to  the  scaffold.  He  was  not  long 
there,  and  what  he  spoke  was  to  the  two  bishops, 
Doctor  Juxon  and  Doctor  Morton.  To  Doctor 
Juxon  he  gave  his  hat  and  cloak.  He  prayed 
with  them ;  walked  twice  or  thrice  about  the 
scaffold  ;  and  held  out  his  hands  to  the  people. 
His  last  words,  as  I  am  informed,  were,  '  To 
your  power  I  must  submit,  but  your  authority 
I  deny.'  He  pulled  his  doublet  off  himself,  and 
kneeled  down  to  the  block  himself.  When  some 
officer  offered  to  help  him  to  unbutton  him,  or 
some  such  like  thing,  he  thrust  him  from  him. 
Two  men,  in  vizards  and  false  hair,  were  ap- 
pointed to  be  his  executioners.  Who  they  were 
is  not  known  :  some  say  he  that  did  it  was  the 
common  hangman  ;  others,  that  it  was  one  Cap- 
tain Foxley,  and  that  the  hangman  refused.  The 
Bishop  of  London  had  been  constantly  with  him 
since  sentence  was  given.  Since  he  died,  they 
have  made  proclamation  that  no  man,  upon  pain 
of  I  know  not  what,  shall  presume  to  proclaim 
his  son,  Prince  Charles,  king  ;  and  this  is  all  I 
have  yet  heard  of  this  sad  day's  work." 

It  is  not  a  little  curious  to  find,  on  more  than 
one  occasion,  "the  Lord  Protector  taking  the  air 
in  St.  James's  Park  in  a  sedan."  It  was  here,  too, 


ST.   JAMES'S  PARK.  211 

—  the  day  before  it  was  agreed  upon  that  the 
Parliament  should  make  him  the  splendid  offer 
of  the  crown  of  the  Plantagenets,  —  that  Crom- 
well led  those  bigoted  and  uncompromising  re- 
publicans, Fleetwood  and  Desborough,  and,  taking 
them  into  one  of  the  retired  walks  of  the  park, 
endeavoured  by  every  argument  to  induce  them 
to  connive  at  his  ambitious  views.  "  He  drolled 
with  them,"  we  are  told,  "  about  monarchy  ;  said 
that  it  was  but  a  feather  in  a  man's  cap  ;  and 
wondered  that  men  would  not  please  children,  and 
permit  them  to  enjoy  their  rattle."  Fleetwood 
and  Desborough  were  both  the  near  connections 
of  the  great  Protector,  the  former  having  married 
his  daughter,  and  the  latter  his  sister.  In  vain, 
however,  he  appealed  to  their  feelings,  their  prej- 
udices, their  ambition.  The  conversation  termi- 
nated by  both  tendering  him  their  commissions. 
They  were  resolved,  they  said,  never  to  serve  a 
king ;  they  saw  the  evils  which  would  follow 
the  elevation  of  their  illustrious  kinsman  to  the 
throne ;  and  they  added  that,  though  they  cer- 
tainly would  not  bear  arms  against  him,  yet  they 
felt  it  a  duty  hereafter  to  decline  carrying  them 
in  his  service.  Cromwell,  it  seems,  laughed  off 
the  affair ;  called  them  "  a  couple  of  precise, 
scrupulous  fellows,"  and  took  his  leave. 

Cromwell  was  at  this  period  in  the  pride  and 
zenith  of  his  greatness,  but  the  Marquis  of  Or- 
mond,  in  a  letter  dated  the  isth  of  March, 


212  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

draws  a  very  different  picture  of  him  as  he 
appeared  in  St.  James's  Park  at  the  close  of  his 
extraordinary  career.  It  was  when  the  threat- 
ened approach  of  death,  the  torments  occasioned 
by  a  miserable  disease,  the  failure  of  his  fondest 
schemes,  and  the  terrors  of  assassination  rendered 
life  almost  a  burden.  "  Some  say,"  writes  Lord 
Ormond,  "that  the  Protector  is  many  times  like 
one  distracted ;  and  in  these  fits  he  will  run  round 
about  the  house  and  into  the  garden,  or  else  ride 
out  with  very  little  company,  which  he  never  doth 
when  composed  and  free  from  disorder.  Friday 
last  a  friend  met  him  in  St.  James's  Park,  with 
only  one  man  with  him,  and  in  a  distempered 
carriage.  If  any  people  offered  to  deliver  him 
petitions  or  the  like,  he  refused,  and  told  them  he 
had  other  things  to  think  of.  Fleetwood  was  in 
the  Park  at  the  same  time,  but  walked  at  a  dis- 
tance, not  daring  to  approach  him  in  his  passion, 
which,  they  say,  was  occasioned  by  some  carriage 
of  Lambert's ;  this  you  may  give  credit  to." 

Cromwell  expired  in  the  neighbouring  palace  of 
Whitehall,  and  it  was  during  the  frightful  storm 
which  howled  around  his  death-bed  on  the  night 
that  he  died  that  many  of  the  ancient  trees  in  St. 
James's  Park  were  uprooted.  It  is  to  this  memo- 
rable storm  that  Waller  alludes  in  his  fine  monody 
on  the  death  of  Cromwell : 

"  We  must  resign  !     Heaven  his  great  soul  doth  claim, 
In  storms  as  loud  as  his  immortal  fame, 


ST.   JAMES'S  PARK.  213 

His  dying  groans ;  his  last  breath  shakes  our  isle, 
And  trees  uncut  fall  for  his  funeral  pile : 
About  his  palace  their  broad  roots  are  tost 
Into  the  air.     So  Romulus  was  lost ! 
And  Rome  in  such  a  tempest  lost  her  king, 
And  from  obeying,  fell  to  worshipping." 

In  the  pages  of  Pepys  will  be  found  many  curi- 
ous notices  of  St.  James's  Park,  from  the  time 
that  Charles  the  Second  commenced  his  improve- 
ments there  under  the  direction  of  Le  Notre,  till 
the  mall  became  the  established  lounging-place  of 
the  merry  monarch  and  his  gay  court.  We  will 
select  some  scattered  passages  from  the  diary 
of  the  gossiping  chronicler:  "  1660,  July  22d. 
Went  to  walk  in  the  inward  park,  but  could  not 
get  in  ;  one  man  was  basted  by  the  keeper  for  car- 
rying some  people  over  on  his  back  through  the 
water."  —  "  Sept.  i6th.  To  the  park,  where  I  saw 
how  far  they  had  proceeded  in  the  Pall  Mall,  and 
in  making  a  river  through  the  park,  which  I  had 
never  seen  before  since  it  was  begun."  —  "Oct. 
nth.  To  walk  in  St.  James's  Park,  where  we 
observed  the  several  engines  at  work  to  draw  up 
water,  with  which  sight  I  was  very  much  pleased." 
—  "  1661,  April  2d.  To  St.  James's  Park,  where 
I  saw  the  Duke  of  York  playing  at  pall-mall,  the 
first  time  that  ever  I  saw  the  sport."  —  "  August 
4th.  Walked  into  St.  James's  Park  (where  I  had 
not  been  a  great  while),  and  there  found  great 
and  very  noble  alterations." —  "1662,  July  2/th. 


214  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

I  went  to  walk  in  the  park,  which  is  now  every 
day  more  and  more  pleasant  by  the  new  works 
upon  it." —  "December  I5th.  To  the  duke,  and 
followed  him  into  the  park,  where,  though  the  ice 
was  broken,  he  would  go  slide  upon  his  skates, 
which  I  did  not  like,  but  he  slides  very  well." 

Fourteen  days  before  the  date  of  the  last 
extract,  we  find  Evelyn  writing  in  his  diary : 
"  1662,  December  ist.  Saw  the  strange  and 
wonderful  dexterity  of  the  sliders  on  the  new 
canal  in  St.  James's  Park  performed  before  their 
Majesties  by  divers  gentlemen  and  others  with 
skates,  after  the  manner  of  the  Hollanders ;  with 
what  a  swiftness  they  pause,  how  suddenly  they 
stop  in  full  career  upon  the  ice."  From  these 
extracts,  it  is  evident  that  the  art  of  skating  had 
been  acquired  by  Charles  and  his  gay  followers, 
during  the  time  that  the  former  held  his  exiled 
court  in  the  Low  Countries,  and  that  it  was  intro- 
duced by  them  into  England  at  the  Restoration. 
From  a  passage  in  Swift's  "Journal  to  Stella,"  it 
would  seem  that  more  than  half  a  century  after- 
ward the  art  was  still  comparatively  unknown. 
In  January,  1711,  he  writes:  "Delicate  walking 
weather,  and  the  canal  and  Rosamond's  Pond  full 
of  the  rabble,  sliding,  and  with  skates,  if  you  know 
what  that  is." 

In  the  time  of  the  Commonwealth,  when  the 
ground  to  the  north  of  St.  James's  Park  consisted 
of  open  fields,  the  game  of  pall-mall,  to  which  we 


ST.   JAMES'S  PARK.  215 

find  Pepys  alluding,  was  played,  as  appears  by  a 
plan  of  St.  James's  Palace  printed  in  1660,  on  the 
site  of  the  present  Pall  Mall.  We  have  already 
mentioned  that  the  paling  of  the  park  originally 
ran  where  the  line  of  the  houses  on  the  south  side 
now  stand,  and  it  was  against  this  paling  that 
the  game  was  anciently  played.  When  Charles  the 
Second,  after  the  Restoration,  removed  the  boun- 
dary of  the  park  to  its  present  site,  namely,  the 
garden  walls  of  St.  James's  and  Marlborough 
House,  the  game  was  played  between  the  avenue 
of  trees  nearest  to  St.  James's  Palace,  adjoining 
the  present  carriage  road.  This  fact  we  find 
established  by  a  very  curious  print  in  the  sup- 
plementary volume  to  Lord  Lansdowne's  works 
printed  by  Walthoe,  in  1732,  and  also  in  a  passage, 
of  the  well-known  letters  from  Sheffield,  Duke  of 
Buckingham,  to  the  Earl  of  Shrewsbury,  in  which 
he  vaunts  the  splendours  and  advantages  of  his 
newly  erected  mansion  (on  the  site  of  the  present 
Buckingham  Palace),  and  describes  the  rows  of 
trees  planted  by  Charles  the  Second  as  forming 
an  admirable  approach  to  his  new  abode.  "  The 
avenues  to  this  house,"  he  writes,  "are  along  St. 
James's  Park,  through  rows  of  goodly  elms  on  one 
hand,  and  gay  flourishing  limes  on  the  other ;  that 
for  coaches,  this  for  walking,  with  the  mall  lying 
betwixt  them." 

The  mall,  it  is  needless  to  remark,  derives  its 
name   from  the  game  of   pall-mall,   which,  in  its 


216  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

turn,  probably,  borrowed  its  designation  from  the 
words  pellere  malleo,  to  strike  with  a  mallet  or 
racket.  The  ground  on  which  it  was  played 
was  a  narrow  strip,  between  two  rows  of  trees, 
extending  about  half  a  mile,  enclosed  on  each  side, 
as  appears  by  the  print  we  have  already  referred 
to,  by  a  border  of  wood,  on  which,  at  regular  dis- 
tances, numbers  were  inscribed  to  denote  the  prog- 
ress of  the  game.  Of  the  sport  itself,  indeed,  we 
know  little  more  than  that  it  consisted  of  striking 
a  ball  through  an  iron  ring  suspended  from  a  hoop. 
From  Pepys  we  learn  that  the  ground  was  kept 
with  great  care.  "  1663,  May  I5th.  I  walked  in 
the  park,  discoursing  with  the  keeper  of  the  pall- 
mall,  who  was  sweeping  it,  ^nd  who  told  me  that 
the  earth  is  mixed  that  do  floor  the  mall,  and  that 
over  all  there  is  cockle-shells  powdered  and  spread 
to  keep  it  fast,  which,  however,  in  dry  weather 
turns  to  dust  and  deads  the  ball."  The  person 
who  had  the  care  of  the  ground  was  called  the 
king's  "  cockle  strewer." 

Charles  the  Second,  in  the  early  part  of  his 
reign,  was  constantly  to  be  seen  playing  at  pall- 
mall  in  St.  James's  Park,  and,  if  we  are  to  place 
any  faith  in  the  adulatory  lines  of  Waller,  was 
extremely  expert  at  the  game. 

"  Here  a  well-polished  mall  give  us  the  joy, 
To  see  our  prince  his  matchless  force  employ; 
His  manly  posture  and  his  graceful  mien, 
Vigour  and  youth  in  all  his  motions  seen ; 


ST.   JAMES'S  PARK.  217 

His  shape  so  lovely,  and  his  limbs  so  strong, 
Confirm  our  hopes,  we  shall  obey  him  long. 
No  sooner  has  he  touched  the  flying  ball, 
But  'tis  already  more  than  half  the  mall ; 
And  such  a  fury  from  his  arm  has  got, 
As  from  a  smoking  culverin  it  were  shot" 

Charles  the  Second  loved  walking  almost  as 
much  as  his  brother  James  delighted  in  riding, 
and  as  he  could  easily  pass  from  the  palace  of 
Whitehall  into  St.  James's  Park,  the  latter  became 
his  almost  daily  resort.  Pepys  mentions  his  pass- 
ing an  hour  in  the  park,  seeing  the  king  and  the 
Duke  of  York  "  come  to  see  their  fowl  play,"  and 
Gibber  says,  in  his  "  Apology  for  His  Life,"  "  The 
king's  indolent  amusement  of  playing  with  his  dogs 
and  feeding  his  ducks  in  St.  James's  Park,  which 
I  have  seen  him  do,  made  the  common  people  adore 
him."  The  freedom  with  which  Charles  mingled 
with  his  subjects  is  so  well  known,  that  the  peru- 
sal of  the  following  extract  of  an  order  issued  in 
1617  rather  takes  us  by  surprise. 

"An  officer  of  our  horse-guards  is  always  to 
attend  and  follow  next  our  person,  when  we  walk 
abroad,  or  pass  up  and  down  from  one  place  to 
another,  as  well  within  doors  as  without,  excepting 
always  our  bedchamber."  This  order  was  issued 
about  the  same  time  that  Blood  made  his  daring 
attempt  on  the  crown  jewels.  Whether,  how- 
ever, it  originated  in  any  apprehension  of  per- 
sonal danger,  or  merely  from  the  people  pressing 


21 8  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

on  the  king  in  his  walks,  it  is  now  difficult  to 
ascertain. 

Coke,  the  author  of  the  well-known  "  Memoirs," 
mentions  a  particular  occasion  when  he  was  in  at- 
tendance on  the  king,  during  one  of  his  customary 
walks  in  St.  James's  Park.  Charles,  as  is  well 
known,  took  a  considerable  interest  in  the  numer- 
ous birds  with  which  the  park  was  stocked,  and 
delighted  in  feeding  them  with  his  own  hand. 
One  day,  having  concluded  his  walk,  he  was  pro- 
ceeding in  the  direction  of  Whitehall,  when,  at  the 
western  end  of  the  mall,  he  encountered  Prince 
Rupert,  whom  he  invited  to  accompany  him  to 
the  palace.  "The  king,"  says  Coke  (who  was 
near  enough  to  overhear  the  conversation),  "told 
the  prince  how  he  had  shot  a  duck,  and  such  a 
dog  fetched  it ;  and  so  they  walked  on  till  the 
king  came  to  St.  James's  House,  and  there  the 
king  said  to  the  prince,  '  Let's  go  and  see  Cam- 
bridge and  Kendal,'  the  Duke  of  York's  two  sons, 
who  then  lay  a-dying.  But  upon  his  return  to 
Whitehall  he  found  all  in  an  uproar,  the  Coun- 
tess of  Castlemaine,  as  it  was  said,  bewailing  above 
all  others,  that  she  should  be  the  first  torn  to 
pieces."  It  appears  that  the  startling  news  of  the 
Dutch  fleet  having  sailed  up  the  Medway  had  just 
been  received  at  the  palace. 

There  are  few  who  are  in  the  habit  of  passing 
through  St.  James's  Park,  who  have  not  at  times 
called  to  mind  the  passage  in  Evelyn's  diary, 


ST.   JAMES'S  PARK.  2IQ 

in  which  the  amiable  and  virtuous  philosopher 
describes  himself  shocked  at  witnessing  a  curious 
dalliance  between  Charles  the  Second  and  Nell 
Gwynn.  The  house  of  the  charming  actress  in 
Pall  Mall  had  been  built  for  her  by  her  royal 
lover,  and  her  garden  extended  to  the  mall  in  St. 
James's  Park.  Evelyn  writes,  on  the  first  of 
March,  1671  :  "I  walked  with  the  king  through 
St.  James's  Park  to  the  garden,  where  I  both  saw 
and  heard  a  very  familiar  discourse  between  Mrs. 
Nelly,  as  they  called  an  impudent  comedian,  she 
looking  out  of  her  garden  on  a  terrace  at  the  top 

of  the  wall,  and standing  on  the  green  walk 

under.  I  was  heartily  sorry  at  this  scene.  Thence 
the  king  walked  to  the  Duchess  of  Cleveland, 
another  lady  of  pleasure  and  curse  of  our  nation." 
We  may  mention  one  more  passage  which  con- 
nects St.  James's  Park  with  the  merry  reign  of 
Charles  the  Second,  namely,  a  graphic  description 
by  Pepys  of  a  court  cavalcade  returning  to  White- 
hall. "1663,  July  13.  I  met  the  queen-mother 
walking  in  the  Pall  Mall  led  by  my  Lord  St. 
Albans ;  and  finding  many  coaches  at  the  gate, 
I  found  upon  inquiry  that  the  duchess  is  brought 
to  bed  of  a  boy ;  and  hearing  that  the  king  and 
queen  are  rode  abroad  with  the  ladies  of  honour 
to  the  park,  and  seeing  a  great  crowd  of  gallants 
staying  here  to  see  their  return,  I  also  stayed, 
walking  up  and  down.  By  and  by  the  king  and 
queen,  who  looked  in  this  dress  (a  white  laced 


220  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

waistcoat  and  a  crimson  short  petticoat,  and  her 
hair  dressed  d  la  negligence]  mighty  pretty  ;  and 
the  king  rode  hand  in  hand  with  her.  Here  also 
my  Lady  Castlemaine  rode  amongst  the  rest  of 
the  ladies ;  but  the  king  took  no  notice  of  her ; 
nor  when  she  alighted  did  anybody  press  (as  she 
seemed  to  expect  and  stayed  for  it)  to  take  her 
down,  but  was  taken  down  by  her  own  gentlemen. 
She  looked  mighty  out  of  humour,  and  had  a  yellow 
plume  in  her  hat  (which  all  took  notice  of),  and  yet 
is  very  handsome  but  very  melancholy ;  nor  did 
anybody  speak  to  her,  or  she  so  much  as  speak  or 
smile  to  anybody.  I  followed  them  into  White- 
hall, and  into  the  queen's  presence,  where  all  the 
ladies  walked,  talking  and  fiddling  with  their  hats 
and  feathers,  and  changing  and  trying  them  on 
one  another's  heads,  and  laughing." 

From  the  days  of  Charles  the  Second  we  readily 
pass  to  those  of  Queen  Anne.  From  that  most 
interesting  series  of  letters,  the  "  Journal  to  Stella," 
we  learn  that  the  mall  in  St.  James's  Park  was  the 
favourite  resort  of  Swift,  and  that  here  many  of 
the  most  remarkable  men  of  the  Augustan  age 
of  England  were  the  frequent  companions  of  his 
walks.  We  will  select  a  few  passages  from  the 
"Journal."  "1711,  Feb.  8th.  I  walked  in  the  park 
to-day  in  spite  of  the  weather,  as  I  do  every  day 
when  it  does  not  actually  rain."  —  "March  2ist. 
The  days  are  now  long  enough  to  walk  in  the  park 
after  dinner,  and  so  I  do  whenever  it  is  fair.  This 


ST.   JAMES'S  PARK.  221 

walking  is  a  strange  remedy ;  Mr.  Prior  walks  to 
make  himself  fat,  and  I  to  bring  myself  down ;  he 
has  generally  a  cough,  which  he  only  calls  a  cold. 
We  often  walk  around  the  park  together."  —  "  May 
1 5th.  My  way  is  this  :  I  leave  my  best  gown  and 
periwig  at  Mrs.  Vanhomrigh's,  then  walk  up  the 
Pall  Mall,  out  at  Buckingham  House,  and  so  to 
Chelsea,  a  little  beyond  the  church.  I  set  out 
about  sunset,  and  get  there  in  something  less  than 
an  hour;  it  is  two  good  miles,  and  just  5,748 
steps.  When  I  pass  the  mall  in  the  evening,  it 
is  prodigious  to  see  the  number  of  ladies  walking 
there  ;  and  I  always  cry  shame  at  the  ladies  of  Ire- 
land, who  never  walk  at  all,  as  if  their  legs  were  of 
no  use  but  to  be  laid  aside." —  "  1712,  March  Qth. 
I  walked  in  the  park  this  evening,  and  came  home 
early  to  avoid  the  Mohocks."  —  "March  i6th. 
Lord  Winchelsea  told  me  to-day  at  court  that  two 
of  the  Mohocks  caught  a  maid  of  old  Lady  Winchel- 
sea's  at  the  door  of  their  house  in  the  park,  with 
a  candle,  who  had  just  lighted  out  somebody.  They 
cut  all  her  face  and  beat  her  without  any  provoca- 
tion." •  —  "  December  27th.  I  met  Mr.  Addison  and 
Pastoral  Philips  on  the  mall  to-day,  and  took  a  turn 
with  them  ;  but  they  both  looked  terribly  dry  and 
cold." 

But  unquestionably  the  most  remarkable  person 
who  is  mentioned  by  Swift  as  one  of  his  compan- 
ions in  his  walks  in  the  mall,  was  the  young  and 
accomplished  secretary  of  state,  Henry  St.  John, 


222  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

afterward  Lord  Bolingbroke.  Swift  writes  on  the 
24th  of  August,  1711:  "  Lord  Radnor  and  I  were 
walking  the  mall  this  evening,  and  Mr.  Secretary 
met  us  and  took  a  turn  or  two  and  then  stole 
away,  and  we  both  believe  it  was  to  pick  up  some 
wench,  and  to-morrow  he  will  be  at  the  cabinet 
with  the  queen ;  so  goes  the  world !  "  But  this 
was  not  the  only  occasion  when  the  immorality 
of  the  libertine  statesman  distinguished  itself  in 
St.  James's  Park.  "  I  have  spoken  to  an  old  man," 
says  Goldsmith,  "  who  assured  me  that  he  saw  him 
and  one  of  his  companions  run  naked  through  the 
park  in  a  fit  of  intoxication  ;  but  then  it  was  a  time 
when  public  decency  might  be  transgressed  with 
less  danger  than  at  present."  "  His  youth,"  writes 
Lord  Chesterfield,  "was  distinguished  by  all  the 
tumult  and  storm  of  pleasures  in  which  he  most 
licentiously  triumphed,  disclaiming  all  decorum. 
His  fine  imagination  has  often  been  heated  and 
exhausted  with  his  body  in  celebrating  and  deify- 
ing the  prostitute  of  the  night,  and  his  convivial 
joys  were  pushed  to  all  the  extravagance  of  frantic 
bacchanals." 

St.  James's  Park  is  connected  with  one  other 
illustrious  name  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Anne.  At 
the  time  when  the  great  Duke  of  Marlborough  was 
in  the  zenith  of  his  unpopularity,  we  find  a  Mrs. 
White  writing  as  follows  to  a  Mrs.  Mason  :  "  On 
the  birthday  of  the  queen,  the  Duke  of  Marlbor- 
ough was  in  a  chair  in  St.  James's  Park,  with  the 


ST.   JAMES'S  PARK.  223 

curtains  drawn.  The  mob,  that  believed  it  to  be 
the  Prince  Eugene,  huzzaed  the  chair ;  but  the 
duke  modestly  drew  back  the  curtains  and  put 
himself  out,  and  with  a  sign  showed  his  dislike  to 
the  salutation.  The  mob,  finding  their  mistake, 
and  that  it  was  he,  cried  out,  '  Stop,  thief,'  which 
was  a  thorough  mortification  to  him.  His  daugh- 
ters that  day,  to  show  their  contempt  of  the  court, 
were  in  wrapping-gowns  in  a  window  at  St.  James's, 
to  see  the  company  pass,  two  of  them,  and  the 
other  two  drove  through  the  Pall  Mall  four  times, 
in  the  worst  of  mob-dress  they  could  put  them- 
selves. The  duke  was  in  a  black  suit  that  day, 
and  his  son-in-law,  the  Duke  of  Montague,  was  at 
court  in  a  plain  coarse  red  coat,  with  a  long  shoul- 
der-knot, in  ridicule  of  the  day  ;  but  the  queen  had 
the  satisfaction  to  see  the  most  splendid  court 
that  ever  was,  and  crowded  more  than  ever  by  all 
the  Church,  nobility,  and  gentry.  My  Lord  Marl- 
borough  finds  his  levees  much  thinner  than  they 
were,  and  daily  less  and  less.  The  people  are  dis- 
gusted at  him."  The  author  of  this  work  witnessed 
a  scene  in  St.  James's  Park,  where  a  noble  duke  of 
our  own  time,  scarcely  less  illustrious  as  a  general 
than  the  Duke  of  Marlborough,  was  hooted  and 
even  pelted  by  a  rabble,  on  the  same  ground,  per- 
haps, on  which  the  great  Marlborough  had  been 
subjected  more  than  a  century  before  to  similar 
indignities. 

Marlborough    House  —  a   tribute   of  gratitude 


224  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

from  the  people  of  England  to  the  great  duke 
—  was  built  on  a  part  of  the  gardens  attached  to 
St.  James's  Palace,  at  the  expense  of  .£40,000. 
It  originally  consisted  of  only  two  stories ;  the 
present  upper  story  having  been  added  by  George, 
fourth  Duke  of  Marlborough,  who  also  constructed 
the  large  apartment  on  the  ground  floor.  There 
are  few  persons,  who  take  an  interest  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  last  age,  who  can  pass  by  Marlborough 
House  without  calling  to  mind  many  remarkable 
passages  in  the  history  of  the  great  warrior  and  of 
his  beautiful  and  high-spirited  duchess,  of  which 
this  interesting  mansion  was  the  scene.  Here,  too, 
it  was  that  the  remains  of  the  illustrious  duke  were 
removed  from  Windsor  Park,  where  he  died  ;  and 
from  hence  they  were  conveyed  in  great  state  to 
Westminster  Abbey.  The  cavalcade  moved  from 
Marlborough  House  along  St.  James's  Park  and  up 
Constitution  Hill  to  Hyde  Park  Corner,  and  from 
thence  through  Piccadilly  and  Pall  Mall,  by  Charing 
Cross  to  Westminster.  At  the  entrance  to  the 
abbey,  the  body  was  received  with  a  blaze  of  torches, 
and  the  funeral  ceremony  was  not  rendered  the  less 
impressive  from  the  fine  voice  and  dignified  deliv- 
ery of  Bishop  Atterbury,  then  Dean  of  Westmin- 
ster, who  performed  the  service. 

After  the  death  of  her  husband,  his  imperious 
widow  proposed  —  instead  of  the  present  insignifi- 
cant entrance  in  Pall  Mall  —  to  pull  down  the  ad- 
joining house  in  that  street,  and  thus  form  a  fine 


ST.   JAMES'S  PARK.  22$ 

approach  immediately  in  front  of  the  mansion. 
The  house,  however,  which  she  was  desirous  of 
purchasing  for  this  purpose,  was  bought  by  Sir 
Robert  Walpole,  who  by  this  means  anticipated 
her  design.  Personally  detesting  Sir  Robert  from 
the  different  sides  which  they  took  in  politics,  she 
was  not  the  less  enraged  against  him  for  interfer- 
ing with  her  domestic  comforts ;  and  when,  sub- 
sequently, at  his  presumed  instigation,  she  was 
excluded  from  the  right,  which  she  had  previously 
enjoyed  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Anne,  of  driving  in 
St.  James's  Park,  her  indignation  knew  no  bounds. 
There  is  extant  a  curious  letter  addressed  by  the 
duchess  to  Doctor  Hare  in  1726,  in  which,  among 
other  grievances,  she  especially  dwells  on  the  hard- 
ship of  her  equipage  being  excluded  from  the 
park.  "I  am  now  come,"  she  writes,  "to  what 
Sir  Robert  says  concerning  my  being  forbid  that 
small  privilege  of  going  through  St.  James's  Park, 
which  the  late  queen  never  took  from  me,  even 
when  the  ministers,  for  their  own  interest,  made 
her  angry  with  me.  Whether  the  king  spoke  first 
to  Sir  Robert,  or  he  advised  it  himself,  makes  no 
difference  to  me.  I  think  it  was  unreasonable  for 
St.  James's  Park  to  be  made  like  a  street ;  but 
considering  the  situation  of  my  house,  and  how 
very  modestly  I  had  made  use  of  the  liberty  that 
was  given  me,  I  thought  I  might  have  hoped,  from 
the  services  that  I  had  always  endeavoured  to  do 
Sir  Robert,  when  I  had  power,  that  he  would  not 


226  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

have  allowed  the  Duke  of  Buckingham's  widow  a 
greater  favour  than  the  Duke  of  Marlborough's, 
since  her  house  is  as  near  Hyde  Park  and  West- 
minster as  mine,  and  has  both  ways  a  better  going 
to  it  than  mine  has  from  the  Pall  Mall,  through 
a  narrow  place  that  sometimes,  from  the  encroach- 
ments people  have  made,  a  coach  and  six  horses 
can  hardly  get  out ;  and  what  makes  this  the  more 
extraordinary  is,  that  Sir  Robert  Walpole  told  me 
himself  that  the  Duchess  of  Buckingham  had  wrote 
so  impertinent  a  letter  to  the  king  that  she  was  not 
to  be  allowed  to  go  through  the  park ;  yet  after 
that  she  was  allowed  to  go  through  every  part  of 
the  park,  as  much  as  the  royal  family  does  ;  and 
what  I  aimed  at  was  only  to  go  sometimes  when 
my  health  required  it,  to  take  the  air.  Mrs.  Dunch 
has  been  likewise  permitted  the  same  favour,  who 
lives  at  Whitehall.  When  I  found  the  Duchess 
of  Buckingham  went  through  (being  so  ill  that 
I  could  not  bear  the  jolting  of  a  coach  upon  the 
stones  when  I  wanted  to  take  the  air),  I  wrote  to 
the  princess  to  obtain  this  favour  for  me.  She 
wrote  to  me  in  half  an  hour,  with  a  great  deal  of 
goodness,  and  would  not  send  me  a  refusal  till  she 
had  tried  several  times,  and  there  is  no  doubt  but 
Sir  Robert  knew  this,  who  might  have  prevented 
me  troubling  her  Royal  Highness  at  all  (as  it  was 
natural  for  any  man  that  had  any  gentlemanlike 
qualities),  by  asking  the  king's  leave  long  before 
anything  of  this  happened  ;  and  he  certainly  should 


ST.   JAMES'S  PARK.  227 

have  done  it  without  giving  me  any  trouble  but 
to  thank  him  for  his  civility,  for  it  was  a  small 
favour,  and  what  some  ministers  formerly  would 
have  thought  right  to  have  done  upon  their  mas- 
ter's account,  without  any  view  of  obliging  me 
in  it." 

These  allusions  to  the  exclusiveness  of  St. 
James's  Park,  in  the  reign  of  George  the  First, 
are  not  a  little  curious ;  but  it  is  still  more  re- 
markable to  find  the  *queen  of  King  George  the 
Second  entertaining  a  serious  intention  of  exclud- 
ing the  public  altogether  from  the  park,  and  con- 
verting it  into  a  garden,  which  was  to  be  an 
appanage  to  the  palace.  When  this  project  was 
first  contemplated  by  her,  she  inquired  of  Sir 
Robert  Walpole  what  he  considered  would  be 
the  cost  of  the  undertaking.  "  Madam,"  was  the 
significant  reply,  "only  three  crowns." 

Horace  Walpole  has  bequeathed  us  a  curious 
anecdote  in  connection  with  Marlborough  House 
and  its  imperious  mistress.  When,  in  1734,  the 
Prince  of  Orange  arrived  in  England  for  the  pur- 
pose of  espousing  the  Princess  Anne,  daughter  of 
George  the  Second,  a  large  boarded  gallery  was 
erected,  for  the  convenience  of  the  company,  in  the 
courtyard  of  St.  James's,  between  the  windows 
of  the  principal  drawing-room  and  the  German 
chapel.  The  ceremony  being  delayed  in  conse- 
quence of  the  prince  being  seized  with  illness, 
and  the  physicians  ordering  him  to  Bath  for  the 


228  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

benefit  of  his  health,  the  gallery,  for  several  weeks, 
was  allowed  to  remain,  darkening  the  windows  of 
Marlborough  House.  Alluding  to  this  circum- 
stance, the  duchess  observed,  with  some  humour, 
to  one  of  her  friends  :  "  I  wonder  when  my  neigh- 
bour George  will  take  away  his  orange-chest." 
According  to  Walpole,  the  gallery  nearly  resem- 
bled the  article  to  which  the  duchess  compared  it. 
It  was  at  Marlborough  House  that  the  celebrated 
duchess  breathed  her  last  in»  1 744. 

The  mall  in  St.  James's  Park  continued  to  be 
the  most  fashionable  promenade  in  London  as 
late  as  1750,  if  not  at  a  much  later  period.  In 
a  letter  to  George  Montagu,  dated  June  23,  1750, 
Horace  Walpole  describes  the  gay  scene  in  his 
happiest  manner.  "  I  had  a  card,"  he  writes, 
"from  Lady  Caroline  Petersham  to  go  with  her 
to  Vauxhall.  I  went  accordingly  to  her  house, 
and  found  her  and  the  little  Ashe,  or  the  Pollard 
Ashe,  as  they  call  her;  they  had  just  finished 
their  last  layer  of  red,  and  looked  as  handsome  as 
crimson  could  make  them.  We  issued  into  the 
mall  to  assemble  our  company,  which  was  all  the 
town,  if  we  could  get  it ;  for  just  so  many  had 
been  summoned,  except  Harry  Vane,  whom  we 
met  by  chance.  We  mustered  the  Duke  of  Kings- 
ton, with  whom  Lady  Caroline  says  she  has  been 
toying  for  these  seven  years  ;  but,  alas  !  his  beauty 
is  at  the  fall  of  the  leaf ;  Lord  March,  Mr.  Whit- 
head,  a  pretty  Miss  Beauclerc,  and  a  very  foolish 


ST.   JAMES'S  PARK.  229 

Miss  Sparre.  These  two  damsels  were  trusted 
by  their  mother,  for  the  first  time  of  their  lives, 
to  the  matronly  care  of  Lady  Caroline.  As  we 
sailed  up  the  mall  with  all  our  colours  flying, 
Lord  Petersham,  with  his  hose  and  legs  twisted 
to  every  point  of  crossness,  strode  by  us  on  the 
outside,  and  repassed  again  on  the  return.  At 
the  end  of  the  mall  she  called  to  him  ;  he  would 
not  answer :  she  gave  a  familiar  spring,  and,  be- 
tween laugh  and  confusion,  ran  up  to  him,  '  My 
lord,  my  lord !  why,  you  don't  see  us ! '  We 
advanced  at  a  little  distance,  not  a  little  awkward 
in  expectation  how  all  this  would  end,  for  my 
lord  never  stirred  his  hat,  or  took  the  least  notice 
of  anybody;  she  said,  'Do  you  go  with  us,  or  are 
you  going  anywhere  else  ? '  'I  don't  go  with  you, 
I  am  going  somewhere  else  ; '  and  away  he  stalked, 
as  sulky  as  a  ghost  that  nobody  will  speak  to 
first." 

We  are  tempted  to  transcribe  the  sequel  of  the 
evening's  adventure,  even  though  it  compels  us 
to  follow  the  gay  party  as  far  as  Vauxhall.  "  We 
got  into  the  best  order  we  could,"  adds  Walpole, 
"  and  marched  to  our  barge,  with  a  boat  of  French 
horns  attending,  and  little  Ashe  singing.  We 
paraded  some  time  up  the  river,  and  at  last  de- 
barked at  Vauxhall ;  there,  if  we  had  so  pleased, 
we  might  have  had  the  vivacity  of  our  party 
increased  by  a  quarrel ;  for  a  Mrs.  Lloyd,  who 
is  supposed  to  be  married  to  Lord  Haddington, 


230  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

seeing  the  two  girls  following  Lady  Petersham 
and  Miss  Ashe,  said  aloud,  '  Poor  girls,  I  am 
sorry  to  see  them  in  such  bad  company ! '  Miss 
Sparre,  who  desired  nothing  so  much  as  the  fun 
of  seeing  a  duel,  —  a  thing  which,  though  she  is 
fifteen,  she  has  never  been  so  lucky  to  see,  —  took 
due  pains  to  make  Lord  March  resent  this ;  but 
he,  who  is  very  lively  and  agreeable,  laughed  her 
out  of  this  charming  frolic  with  a  great  deal  of 
humour.  Here  we  picked  up  Lord  Granby,  arrived 
very  drunk  from  Jenny's  Whim  ; *  where,  instead 
of  going  to  old  Strafford's  catacombs  to  make 
honourable  love,  he  had  dined  with  Lady  Fanny, 
and  left  her  and  eight  other  women  and  four  other 
men  playing  at  brag.  He  would  fain  have  made 
over  his  honourable  love  upon  any  terms  to  poor 
Miss  Beauclerc,  who  is  very  modest,  and  who  did 
not  know  what  to  do  at  all  with  his  whispers  or 
his  hands.  He  then  addressed  himself  to  the 
Sparre,  who  was  very  well  disposed  to  receive 
both ;  but  the  tide  of  champagne  turned ;  he 
hiccuped  at  the  reflection  of  his  marriage  (of 
which  he  is  wondrous  sick),  and  only  proposed  to 
the  girl  to  shut  themselves  up  and  rail  at  the 
world  for  three  weeks.  If  all  the  adventures 
don't  conclude  as  you  expect  in  the  beginning  of 
a  paragraph,  you  must  not  wonder,  for  I  am  not 
making  a  history,  but  relating  one  strictly  as  it 

*  A  tavern  at  the  end  of  the  wooden  bridge,  at  Chelsea,  at 
that  time  much  frequented  by  men  of  fashion. 


ST.   JAMES'S  PARK.  231 

happened,  and  I  think  with  full  entertainment 
enough  to  content  you.  At  last  we  assembled 
in  our  booth,  Lady  Caroline  in  the  front,  with  the 
vizor  of  her  hat  erect,  and  looking  gloriously  jolly 
and  handsome.  She  had  fetched  my  brother 
Orford  from  the  next  box,  where  he  was  enjoying 
himself  with  his  petite  partie,  to  help  us  to  mince 
chickens.  We  minced  seven  chickens  in  a  China 
dish,  which  Lady  Caroline  stewed  over  a  lamp 
with  three  pats  of  butter  and  a  flagon  of  water, 
stirring,  and  rattling,  and  laughing,  and  we  every 
minute  expecting  to  have  the  dish  fly  about  our 
ears.  She  had  brought  Betty,  the  fruit -girl,  with 
hampers  of  strawberries  and  cherries  from  Rogers's, 
and  made  her  wait  upon  us,  and  then  made  her 
sup  by  us  at  a  little  table.  The  conversation  was 
no  less  lively  than  the  whole  transaction.  There 
was  a  Mr.  O'Brien  arrived  from  Ireland,  who 
would  get  the  Duchess  of  Manchester  from  Mr. 
Hussey,  if  she  were  still  at  liberty.  I  took  up 
the  biggest  hautboy  on  the  dish,  and  said  to 
Lady  Caroline,  '  Madam,  Miss  Ashe  desires  you 
would  eat  this  O'Brien  strawberry.'  She  replied 
immediately,  '  I  won't,  you  hussey.'  You  may 
imagine  the  laugh  this  reply  occasioned.  After 
the  tempest  was  a  little  calmed,  the  Pollard  said, 
'  Now,  how  anybody  would  spoil  this  story  that 
was  to  repeat  it,  and  say,  I  won't,  you  jade.'  In 
short,  the  whole  air  of  our  party  was  sufficient, 
as  you  may  easily  imagine,  to  take  up  the  whole 


232  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

attention  of  the  garden ;  so  much  so,  that,  from 
eleven  o'clock  till  half  an  hour  after  one,  we  had 
the  whole  concourse  around  our  booth.  At  last, 
they  came  into  the  little  gardens  of  each  booth 
on  the  sides  of  ours,  till  Harry  Vane  took  up  a 
bumper,  and  drank  their  healths,  and  was  proceed- 
ing to  treat  them  with  still  greater  freedom.  It 
was  three  o'clock  before  we  got  home." 

Spring  Gardens,  at  the  east  end  of  the  mall  in 
St.  James's  Park,  derives  its  name  from  certain 
gardens,  or  pleasure-grounds,  which  were  laid  out 
here  about  the  reign  of  James  the  First,  and  in 
which  there  were  several  springs  of  excellent 
water.  It  is  remarkable  that  every  house  in  what 
is  called  "  Spring  Garden  Terrace,"  has  still  a 
well  attached  to  it.  In  the  reign  of  Charles  the 
First,  we  find  a  servant  of  the  Crown  licensed  to 
keep  an  ordinary  and  bowling-green  in  the  Spring 
Gardens. 

The  bowling-green  in  Spring  Gardens  was  the 
frequent  resort  of  the  unfortunate  Charles  the 
First.  When  his  celebrated  favourite,  the  first 
Villiers,  Duke  of  Buckingham,  was  in  the  height 
of  his  unpopularity,  Charles  was  one  day  saunter- 
ing with  him  in  the  Spring  Gardens,  watching  his 
favourite  game  of  bowls,  when  they  were  ap- 
proached by  a  Scotchman,  who  for  some  time  had 
been  narrowly  watching  them.  Of  all  the  com- 
pany, the  haughty  Buckingham  was  the  only  per- 
son who  retained  his  hat  on  his  head  in  the  presence 


ST.   JAMES'S  PARK.  233 

of  his  sovereign.  The  Scotchman,  having  first  of 
all  kissed  the  duke's  hand,  suddenly  snatched  off 
his  hat,  exclaiming,  "  Off  with  your  hat  before  the 
king."  Buckingham,  we  are  told,  instantly  gave 
the  Scotchman  a  kick,  and  probably  in  his  wrath 
would  have  proceeded  to  further  lengths  had  not 
the  king  interposed.  "  Let  him  alone,  George," 
he  said,  "he  is  either  mad  or  a  fool."  "No,  sir," 
said  the  offender,  "I  am  a  sober  man,  and  if  your 
Majesty  would  give  me  leave,  I  will  tell  you  that 
of  this  man  which  many  know,  and  none  dare 
speak." 

About  six  years  after  this  singular  occurrence, 
we  find  the  amusements  in  the  Spring  Gardens 
suppressed  by  royal  command.  Mr.  Garrard 
writes  to  the  Earl  of  Stafford  in  1634:  "The 
bowling-green  in  the  Spring  Gardens  was  put 
down  one  day  by  the  king's  command  ;  but  by 
the  intercession  of  the  queen  it  was  reopened  for 
this  year;  but  hereafter  it  shall  be  no  common 
bowling-place.  There  was  kept  an  ordinary  of 
six  shillings  a  meal  (where  the  king's  proclamation 
allows  but  two  elsewhere),  continual  bibbing  and 
drinking  under  all  trees  ;  two  or  three  quarrels 
every  week.  It  was  grown  scandalous  and  in- 
sufferable ;  besides  my  Lord  Digby,  being  appre- 
hended for  striking  in  the  king's  garden,  he  said 
he  took  it  for  a  common  bowling-place."  From  a 
subsequent  letter  from  Mr.  Garrard,  we  find  that 
the  king's  edict  was  carried  rigorously  into  effect. 


234  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

"Since  the  Spring  Garden,"  he  writes,  "was  put 
down,  we  have,  by  a  servant  of  the  lord  chamber- 
lain's, a  new  Spring  Garden  erected  in  the  fields 
behind  the  Meuse,  where  is  built  a  fair  house  and 
two  bowling-greens,  made  to  entertain  gamesters 
and  bowlers  to  an  excessive  rate,  for  I  believe  it 
has  cost  him  ^400,  a  dear  undertaking  for  a 
gentleman  barber." 

The  Spring  Gardens  could  have  remained  closed 
only  a  few  years,  for,  in  1649,  we  find  Evelyn 
"  treating  divers  ladies  of  his  relations "  here. 
However,  after  the  death  of  Charles  the  First,  the 
public  were  again  excluded  from  them.  Evelyn 
writes :  "  Lady  Oliver  Gerrard  treated  us  at  Mul- 
berry Garden,  now  the  only  place  of  refreshment 
about  the  town  for  persons  of  the  best  quality  to 
be  exceedingly  cheated  at,  Cromwell  and  his  parti- 
sans having  shut  up  and  seized  on  Spring  Gardens, 
which  till  now  had  been  the  usual  rendezvous  for 
ladies  and  gallants  at  this  season."  We  have 
already  mentioned  that  Charles  the  First,  when 
on  his  way  to  the  scaffold,  pointed  out  a  tree  in 
Spring  Gardens  as  having  been  planted  by  his 
brother  Henry.  There  is  a  tradition  also,  that, 
on  the  same  melancholy  occasion,  he  stopped  to 
drink  a  glass  of  water  at  one  of  the  springs. 

At  the  Restoration  of  Charles  the  Second, 
the  Spring  Gardens  were  reopened  with  increased 
incentives  to  extravagance  and  profligacy,  and, 
during  the  reign  of  the  merry  monarch,  continued 


ST.  JAMES'S  PARK.  235 

to  be  the  favourite  resort  of  his  gay  courtiers. 
In  connection  with  the  annals  of  gallantry  in 
the  reign  of  Charles,  Count  Hamilton,  in  his 
"Me" moires  de  Grammont,"  gives  an  account  of  a 
remarkable  fracas  which  took  place  here  between 
Henry  Jermyn,  nephew  of  the  Earl  of  St.  Albans, 
and  Thomas  Howard,  brother  of  the  Earl  of  Car- 
lisle. They  were  rival  candidates  for  the  favours 
of  the  beautiful  but  profligate  Countess  of  Shrews- 
bury, whose  husband  was  afterward  killed  in  the 
memorable  duel  with  the  second  Villiers,  Duke 
of  Buckingham,  on  which  occasion  she  is  said  to 
have  held  the  horse  of  her  paramour  in  the  dress 
of  a  page,  and  afterward  to  have  slept  with  him 
in  his  bloody  shirt.  "  Lady  Shrewsbury,"  writes 
Count  Hamilton,  "inconsiderately  returning  the 
first  ogles  of  the  invincible  Jermyn,  did  not  make 
herself  more  agreeable  to  Howard ;  this,  however, 
she  paid  little  attention  to ;  yet,  as  she  designed 
to  keep  fair  with  him,  she  consented  to  accept  an 
entertainment  which  he  had  often  proposed,  and 
which  she  could  no  longer  refuse.  A  place  of 
amusement,  called  Spring  Garden,  was  fixed  upon 
for  the  scene  of  this  entertainment.  As  soon 
as  the  party  was  settled,  Jermyn  was  privately 
informed  of  it.  Howard  had  a  company  in  the 
guards,  and  one  of  the  soldiers  of  his  company 
played  pretty  well  on  the  bagpipes  ;  this  soldier 
was  therefore  at  the  entertainment.  Jermyn  was 
at  the  garden  as  by  chance,  and,  puffed  up  with  his 


236  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

former  successes,  he  trusted  to  his  victorious  air 
for  accomplishing  this  last  enterprise.  He  no 
sooner  appeared  on  the  walks  than  her  Ladyship 
showed  herself  upon  the  balcony. 

"I  know  not  how  she  stood  affected  to  her 
hero;  but  Howard  did  not  fancy  him  much.  This 
did  not  prevent  his  coming  up-stairs  upon  the 
first  sign  she  made  to  him  ;  and  not  content  with 
acting  the  petty  tyrant  at  an  entertainment  not 
made  for  himself,  no  sooner  had  he  gained  the 
soft  looks  of  the  fair  one  than  he  exhausted  all  his 
commonplace  and  stock  of  low  irony  in  railing 
at  the  entertainment  and  ridiculing  the  music. 
Howard  had  but  little  turn  for  raillery,  and  still 
less  patience.  Three  times  was  the  banquet  on 
the  point  of  being  stained  with  blood,  but  as  often 
did  he  suppress  his  natural  impetuosity  in  order  to 
satisfy  his  resentment  elsewhere  with  greater  free- 
dom. Jermyn,  without  paying  the  least  regard  to 
his  ill-humour,  pursued  his  point,  continued  talking 
to  Lady  Shrewsbury,  and  did  not  leave  her  until 
the  repast  was  ended.  He  went  to  bed  proud  of 
his  triumph,  and  was  waked  next  morning  by  a 
challenge.  He  took  for  his  second  Giles  Rawlings, 
a  man  of  intrigue  and  a  deep  player.  Howard 
took  Dillon,  who  was  dexterous  and  brave,  much 
of  a  gentleman,  and,  unfortunately,  an  intimate 
friend  of  Rawlings.  In  this  duel  fortune  did  not 
side  with  the  votaries  of  love :  poor  Rawlings  was 
left  stone  dead  ;  and  Jermyn,  having  received  three 


ST.   JAMES'S  PARK.  237 

wounds,  was  carried  to  his  uncle's,  with  very  little 
signs  of  life." 

In  the  time  of  the  Commonwealth,  Milton  had 
a  house  in  Charing  Cross  which  overlooked  the 
Spring  Gardens.  It  was  also  at  his  house  in 
Spring  Gardens  that  Prince  Rupert  breathed  his 
last,  on  the  2Qth  of  November,  1684.  Here,  also, 
died  the  celebrated  dramatic  writer,  Mrs.  Centlivre, 
whose  genius  and  strange  adventures  have  ren- 
dered her  name  so  familiar  to  us. 

From  Spring  Gardens  let  us  pass  down  the  mall 
to  Buckingham  Palace.  Not  far  from  the  present 
Buckingham  Gate  stood  Tart  Hall  and  the  Mul- 
berry Garden;  the  latter  being  planted  in  1609, 
by  order  of  James  the  First,  with  the  view  of  pro- 
ducing silk  in  England.  With  this  object  he  caused 
several  shiploads  of  mulberry-trees  to  be  imported 
from  France  ;  and,  in  1629,  we  find  a  grant  made 
to  Walter,  Lord  Aston,  appointing  him  to  "the 
custody  of  the  garden,  mulberry-trees,  and  silk- 
worms, near  St.  James's,  in  the  county  of  Middle- 
sex." The  speculation  proving  a  failure,  the 
Mulberry  Garden,  within  a  few  years,  was  con- 
verted into  a  place  of  fashionable  amusement. 
Doctor  King  writes,  about  the  time  of  the  Pro- 
tectorate : 

"  The  fate  of  things  lies  always  in  the  dark: 
What  cavalier  would  know  St.  James's  Park  ? 
For  Locket's  stands  where  gardens  once  did  spring, 
And  wild  ducks  quack  where  grasshoppers  did  sing ; 


238  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

A  princely  palace  on  that  space  does  rise, 
Where  Sudley's  noble  muse  found  mulberries." 

The  Mulberry  Garden,  according  to  Malone, 
was  the  favourite  resort  of  the  immortal  Dryden, 
where  he  used  to  eat  mulberry  tarts  with  his 
mistress,  Mrs.  Anne  Reeve. 

"  Nor  he,  whose  essence,  wit,  and  taste,  approved, 
Forget  the  mulberry-tarts  which  Dryden  loved." 
—  Pursuits  of  Literature. 

The  "  princely  palace "  alluded  to  in  Doctor 
King's  verses  was  doubtless  Tart  Hall,  which  was 
built  in  1638,  by  Nicholas  Stone,  for  Alathea, 
Countess  of  Arundel.  After  her  death  it  became 
the  residence  of  her  ill-fated  son,  William,  Lord 
Stafford,  one  of  the  victims  of  the  perjuries  of 
Titus  Gates  during  the  Popish  Plot  of  1680.  From 
this  nobleman,  Stafford  Place  and  Stafford  Row, 
Pimlico,  —  which  stand  on  the  site  of  part  of  the 
garden,  —  derive  their  names.  In  the  old  mansion 
were  preserved  the  famous  Arundel  marbles ;  and 
it  was  in  the  garden  that  they  were  buried  during 
the  excitement  occasioned  by  the  Popish  Plot,  it 
being  dreaded  that  they  would  fall  a  sacrifice  to 
the  fury  of  the  mob,  whose  ignorance  taught  them 
to  believe  that  they  were  images  of  popish  saints. 

On  the  site  of  the  present  Buckingham  Palace 
stood  Arlington  House,  the  residence  of  Henry 
Bennet,  Earl  of  Arlington,  one  of  the  famous 


ST.  JAMES'S  PARK.  239 

Cabal  in  the  reign  of  Charles  the  Second,  and  the 
"  Achitophel  "  of  Dryden's  immortal  poem. 

"  For  close  designs  and  crooked  counsels  fit ; 
Sagacious,  bold,  and  turbulent  of  wit ; 
Restless,  unfixed  in  principles  and  place, 
In  power  unpleased,  impatient  of  disgrace ; 
A  fiery  soul,  which,  working  out  its  way, 
Fretted  the  pigmy  body  to  decay, 
And  o'er-informed  the  tenement  of  clay,"  etc. 

Arlington  House  was  pulled  down  by  the  no 
less  celebrated  John  Sheffield,  Duke  of  Bucking- 
ham, who  erected  on  its  site,  in  1703,  the  vast 
mansion  which,  within  the  last  few  years,  has  been 
displaced  by  the  present  Buckingham  Palace.  His 
mode  of  living  in  his  princely  residence ;  its  ad- 
vantages and  unusual  splendour,  as  well  as  his 
own  personal  habits,  the  duke  has  himself  de- 
scribed in  a  well-known  letter,  which  he  addressed 
to  the  Duke  of  Shrewsbury.  Here  it  was  that  he 
died,  and  from  hence  his  remains  were  conveyed, 
with  great  magnificence,  to  Henry  the  Seventh's 
Chapel,  at  Westminster. 

After  the  death  of  the  duke,  Buckingham  House 
became  the  residence  of  his  widow,  the  fantastic 
Catherine  Darnley,  illegitimate  daughter  of  James 
the  Second,  by  the  celebrated  Catherine  Sedley, 
Countess  of  Dorchester.  Here  it  was,  on  each 
anniversary  of  the  execution  of  her  grandfather, 
Charles  the  First,  that  she  was  accustomed  to  hold 
a  solemn  fast  day,  —  when,  surrounded  by  a  theatri- 


240  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

cal  display  of  mournful  grandeur,  she  received  her 
guests  in  the  great  drawing-room  of  Buckingham 
House,  the  duchess  herself  being  seated  in  a  chair 
of  state,  clad  in  the  deepest  mourning,  surrounded 
by  her  women,  as  black  and  dismal-looking  as  her- 
self. Here,  too,  it  was,  that  this  eccentric  lady 
breathed  her  last.  Horace  Walpole  writes  to  Sir 
Horace  Mann,  the  day  following  her  death  :  "Prin- 
cess Buckingham  is  dead  or  dying ;  she  has  sent 
for  Mr.  Anstis,  and  settled  the  ceremonial  of  her 
burial.  On  Saturday  she  was  so  ill  that  she  feared 
dying  before  the  pomp  was  come  home.  She  said, 
'  Why  don't  they  send  the  canopy  for  me  to  see  ? 
Let  them  send  it  though  all  the  tassels  are  not 
finished.'  But  yesterday  was  the  greatest  stroke 
of  all.  She  made  her  ladies  vow  to  her  that,  if 
she  should  lie  senseless,  they  would  not  sit  down 
in  the  room  before  she  was  dead."  By  her  own 
directions  she  was  buried  with  great  pomp  in 
Henry  the  Seventh's  Chapel,  where  there  was 
formerly  a  waxen  figure  of  her,  adorned  with 
jewels,  prepared  in  her  lifetime  by  her  own  hands. 
In  1761  Buckingham  House  was  purchased  by 
the  Crown  for  twenty-one  thousand  pounds,  and 
was  settled  upon  Queen  Charlotte  for  her  life. 

James  Street,  Buckingham  Gate,  overlooking 
St.  James's  Park,  is  not  without  interest.  It  was 
in  one  of  the  houses  in  this  street  that  the  well- 
known  historian,  Bishop  Kennett,  expired ;  and  it 
was  in  another  that  the  secret  interview  took  place 


ST.   JAMES'S  PARK.  241 

between  the  great  Duke  of  Marlborough  and  the 
celebrated  Harley,  Earl  of  Oxford,  when  the  dis- 
covery of  the  disgraceful  negotiations  between  the 
duke  and  the  French  king  placed  the  life  of 
the  former  in  the  hands  of  the  English  minister. 
The  curious  fact  of  their  secret  interview  was 
related  by  Erasmus  Lewis,  the  faithful  secretary 
of  Lord  Oxford,  to  Carte,  the  historian.  "They 
had  a  meeting,"  says  the  latter,  "at  Thomas  Har- 
ley's  house  in  James  Street,  Westminster,  Oxford 
coming  to  the  street  door  in  his  coach,  the  Duke 
of  Marlborough  in  a  chair  to  the  garden  door 
opening  into  the  park.  It  was  then  resolved  that 
the  Duke  of  Marlborough  should  go  abroad." 
The  truth  of  this  story  is  corroborated  by  Dal- 
rymple,  on  the  authority  of  Gordon,  the  principal 
of  the  Scots  College  at  Paris,  who  asserted  that 
the  Earl  of  Oxford  —  under  pretence  of  being  in 
the  interests  of  the  exiled  family  —  got  posses- 
sion of  the  original  letter  addressed  by  Marlbor- 
ough to  the  ex-king,  James  the  Second,  in  which 
he  traitorously  communicated  the  expedition  pro- 
jected by  the  English  government  against  Brest. 
"  It  is  known,"  writes  Dalrymple,  "  that  there  was 
a  private  meeting  between  the  duke  and  Lord 
Oxford,  at  Mr.  Thomas  Harley's  house,  to  which 
the  duke  came  by  a  back  door ;  immediately  after 
which  he  quitted  England."  Such  is  a  part  of 
the  secret  history  of  the  circumstances  which  led 
to  the  memorable  exile  of  the  great  Duke  of  Marl- 


242  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

borough,  at  the  close  of  the  reign  of  Queen 
Anne. 

At  No.  2  James  Street  lived  Glover,  the  author 
of  "  Leonidas,"  and  I  believe  this  is  the  same 
house  which  was  afterward  occupied  by  Gifford, 
the  translator  of  "Juvenal,"  and  editor  of  the 
Quarterly  Review. 

The  ground  between  James  Street  and  Tothill 
Street,  Westminster,  was  formerly  known  as 
Petty  France.  Here  it  was,  on  quitting  his  resi- 
dence in  Scotland  Yard,  that  Milton  removed  to 
a  "  garden  house,"  opening  into  St.  James's  Park, 
next  door  to  the  Lord  Scudamore's  ;  here  it  was 
that  he  lost  his  second  wife,  who  died  in  childbed, 
and  to  whose  death  we  owe  one  of  the  most  beau- 
tiful of  his  sonnets,  — 

"  Methought  I  saw  my  late  espoused  saint, 
Brought  to  me,  like  Alcestis,  from  the  grave,"  etc.,  — 

and  here  it  was  that  the  great  poet  became  to- 
tally blind.  Milton  resided  in  Petty  France  from 
1652  till  within  a  short  time  before  the  Restoration 
of  Charles  the  Second  in  1660;  when,  foreseeing 
the  danger  which  awaited  him  in  the  event  of  a 
change  of  dynasty,  he  sought  refuge  in  the  house 
of  a  friend  in  Bartholomew  Close.  Here  he  re- 
mained concealed  till  he  found  himself  included  in 
the  general  amnesty,  when  he  removed  to  a  house 
in  Holborn,  near  Red  Lion  Square,  and  shortly 
afterward  to  Jewin  Street. 


ST.   JAMES'S  PARK.  243 

Close  to  the  spot  which  must  have  been  the  site 
of  Milton's  residence  is  Queen's  Square,  where 
the  celebrated  Jeremy  Bentham  lived  and  died ; 
and  a  little  to  the  east  is  Storey's  Gate,  formerly 
called  Storehouse  Gate,  from  a  storehouse  of  the 
ordnance  having  formerly  stood  here.  Almost 
immediately  facing  Buckingham  Palace,  and  ad- 
joining Storey's  Gate,  the  houses  on  the  western 
side  of  Duke  Street,  Westminster,  look  into  the 
park.  The  chapel — a  conspicuous  object  as  we 
pass  from  the  Bird-cage  Walk  —  was  originally 
a  wing  of  the  mansion  of  the  infamous  Judge 
Jeffries,  and  it  was  by  the  particular  favour  of 
his  sovereign,  James  the  Second,  that  he  was 
allowed  to  construct  the  flight  of  steps  which  still 
lead  into  the  park.  The  house  in  Duke  Street 
was  afterward  purchased  by  the  government  from 
the  son  of  Lord  Jeffries,  and  was  used  as  the 
Admiralty  office,  till  the  erection  of  the  present 
unsightly  building  in  Whitehall. 

Let  us  pass  from  the  park  through  Storey's 
Gate  into  Westminster. 


CHAPTER   X. 

KING     STREET,     WESTMINSTER, ST.     MARGARET'S 

CHURCH. 

Westminster,  King  Street  —  Residence  of  Spenser,  Carew,  Lord 
Dorset,  Cromwell  —  Great  Plague  —  Mrs.  Oldfield  —  Down- 
ing Street  —  Gardiner's  Lane — Cannon  Row — St.  Marga- 
ret's Church  —  The  Sanctuary. 

THE  old  city  of  Westminster  —  with  its  venera- 
ble abbey,  its  remains  of  the  ancient  palace  of  the 
Saxon  kings,  and  its  gloomy  and  narrow  streets, 
once  the  residence  of  peers,  courtiers,  and  poets 
—  constitutes,  perhaps,  the  most  interesting  dis- 
trict of  the  great  metropolis.  We  have  the  sanc- 
tuary, too,  famous  in  history,  —  the  beautiful  but 
mouldering  cloisters  of  the  old  abbey,  —  the  Al- 
monry, anciently  called  the  Eleemosynary,  where 
the  monks  distributed  alms  to  the  poor,  and  where 
Caxton,  under  the  auspices  of  Bishop  Islip,  estab- 
lished the  first  printing-press  in  England;  and, 
lastly,  we  have  still  left  to  us  Westminster  Hall, 
with  all  its  host  of  historical  associations. 

Fashion,  or  rather  an  entire  change  in  the  rank 
and  character  of  its  inhabitants,  has  revolutionised 
244 


KING  STREET,    WESTMINSTER.  245 

the  aspect  of  the  streets  of  Westminster  far  more 
than  time.  It  was  only  yesterday  that  the  author 
made  a  pilgrimage  through  its  confined  streets  and 
dingy  alleys,  and,  with  one  single  exception,  he 
found  every  street  which  he  was  in  search  of  bear- 
ing the  same  name  by  which  it  was  distinguished 
two  centuries  ago.  Milton,  Spenser,  Herrick,  Ben 
Jonson,  Davenant,  Dorset,  —  with  how  many  of 
the  greatest  or  the  sweetest  of  our  national  poets 
are  those  streets  associated !  To  the  author,  the 
most  pleasing  part  of  his  labours  in  composing 
the  present  work  has  been  to  search  out  the  haunts 
—  and  they  generally  comprise  the  calamities  — 
of  departed  genius,  — 

"  Free  from  the  crowd,  each  hallowed  spot  I  roam, 
Where  genius  found  a  death-bed  or  a  home ; 
While  memory  lingers  on  each  honoured  name, 
Through  life  despised,  yet  heirs  to  endless  fame ; 
Children  of  fancy,  famine,  and  despair, 
Whose  drink  was  tears,  whose  daily  bread  was  care ; 
Ambition's  playthings,  o'er  whose  sacred  dust 
Relenting  Time  has  reared  the  tardy  bust. 
Here  Dryden's  genius  soared  its  lofty  flight, 
There  fancy  blazed  through  Milton's  darkened  sight ; 
These  walls  still  speak  of  Goldsmith's  mournful  tale ; 
Here  Spenser  starved  ;  there  Rushworth  died  in  jail ; 
Here  Otway's  fate  yon  frowning  Tower  recalls ; 
Here  Gay  was  nursed  in  Queensberry's  ducal  halls ;  — 
Those  walls,  where  Prior  was  beloved  of  yore, 
Received  with  rapture  one  true  poet  more. 
Here,  in  this  chamber,  Congreve's  hours  were  blest, 
With  blooming  Wortley  for  his  evening  guest; 


246  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

Here  Oldfield's  beaming  eyes  and  quiet  mirth 
Threw  love  and  laughter  o'er  the  poet's  hearth  ; 
Here  flashed  his  wit,  and  here  the  poet  died, 
Marlborough's  young  duchess  weeping  by  his  side ; 
Reversed  for  him  the  bard's  proverbial  doom, 
Through  life  beloved,  and  wept  o'er  in  the  tomb." 

— /•  H.  J. 

Previous  to  the  building  of  the  present  Parliament 
Street,  late  in  the  last  century,  King  Street  con- 
stituted the  only  thoroughfare  between  the  cities 
of  London  and  Westminster ;  and  such  was  its 
miserable  state  that,  to  a  late  period, — on  the 
days  on  which  the  sovereign  opened  or  dissolved 
Parliament,  —  fagots  were  thrown  into  the  ruts  to 
render  the  passage  of  the  ponderous  state-coach 
more  easy.  When  we  consider  this  circumstance, 
it  is  not  a  little  curious,  in  glancing  over  the  "  New 
View  of  London,"  published  in  1708,  to  find  King 
Street  dignified  as  "  the  most  spacious  street  and 
principal  for  trade  in  Westminster,  being  between 
the  gate  at  the  south  end  of  the  Privy  Garden  and 
the  Abbey  Yard."  It  may  be  mentioned  that  the 
gate  here  alluded  to  was  not  the  one  designed  by 
Holbein,  —  which  we  shall  describe  in  our  notices 
of  Whitehall,  —  but  a  smaller  one  which  spanned 
King  Street  immediately  to  the  north  of  where 
Downing  Street  now  stands.  The  latter  originally 
formed  a  part  of  the  palace  of  Whitehall,  and  in 
the  reign  of  Charles  the  First  contained  the  apart- 
ments of  the  beautiful  and  intriguing  Mary,  Count- 


KING  STREET,    WESTMINSTER.  247 

ess  of  Buckingham,  the  mother  of  the  great  favour- 
ite, George  Villiers,  Duke  of  Buckingham.  She 
died  in  the  "Gatehouse  Whitehall,"  in  1632,  and 
from  hence  her  body  was  conveyed  with  great 
pomp  to  Westminster  Abbey,  where  it  lies  beside 
the  murdered  remains  of  her  ill-fated  son. 

King  Street  is  replete  with  interesting  associa- 
tions. Either  in  this  gloomy  thoroughfare,  or  in 
the  streets  which  diverge  from  it,  have  lived  or 
died  many  illustrious  persons  whose  names  are 
familiar  to  us  in  the  literary  or  historical  annals  of 
our  country ;  moreover,  through  this  mean  thor- 
oughfare the  majority  of  our  kings,  since  the 
Conquest,  have  passed  to  their  coronations  at 
Westminster,  and  not  a  few  of  them  subsequently 
to  their  tombs  in  the  abbey. 

The  first  illustrious  name  with  which  King  Street 
is  associated  is  that  of  Edmund  Spenser.  When 
Tyrone's  rebellion  burst  forth  in  Ireland  in  1 598, 
the  political  opinions  of  the  great  poet  rendered 
him  so  obnoxious  to  the  infuriated  insurgents  that 
his  only  hope  for  safety  was  in  an  immediate 
flight.  He  had  scarcely  turned  his  back  on  his 
beloved  home  at  Kilcolman,  when  the  rebels  took 
possession  of  it  ;  his  goods  were  carried  off ;  the 
house  was  set  on  fire,  and  an  infant  child,  whom 
he  had  been  compelled  to  leave  behind  in  the  con- 
fusion of  his  flight,  perished  in  the  flames.  Ruined 
and  broken-hearted,  the  great  poet  flew  to  Eng- 
land, and,  on  his  arrival  in  the  vast  metropolis, 


248  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

took  up  his  abode  in  a  small  inn  or  lodging-house 
in  King  Street,  Westminster.  The  circumstances 
of  his  end  are  too  painful  to  reflect  upon.  Drum- 
mond  of  Hawthornden  tells  us,  in  his  "  Conversa- 
tions with  Ben  Jon  son  : "  "  Ben  Jonson  told  me 
that  Spenser's  goods  were  robbed  by  the  Irish  in 
Tyrone's  rebellion,  his  house  and  a  little  child  of 
his  burnt,  and  he  and  his  wife  merely  escaped ; 
that  he  afterward  died  in  King  Street  by  absolute 
•  want  of  bread ;  and  that  he  refused  twenty  pieces 
sent  him  by  the  Earl  of  Essex,  and  gave  this 
answer  to  the  person  who  brought  them,  '  that  he 
was  sure  he  had  no  time  to  spend  them.' ' 

Such  was  the  end  of  that  great  poet,  of  whom 
Dryden  said,  "No  man  was  ever  born  with  a 
greater  genius,  or  had  more  knowledge  to  support 
it ;  "  whom  Thomson,  the  author  of  the  "  Seasons," 
confessedly  took  as  his  model ;  whom  Joseph  War- 
ton  ranked  in  erudition  next  to  Milton ;  whom 
Milton  himself  was  not  ashamed  to  confess  as 
his  original ;  of  whom  Cowley  tells  us  that  he 
was  "  made  a  poet  "  by  reading  Spenser  ;  of  whom 
Pope  tells  us  that  he  read  the  "  Faerie  Queene  " 
"with  a  vast  deal  of  delight,"  when  he  was  twelve 
years,  and  that  he  read  it  with  no  less  pleasure 
after  the  lapse  of  nearly  half  a  century ;  and, 
lastly,  of  whom  Gibbon  says  (I  quote  from  mem- 
ory) :  "  The  armorial  shield  of  the  Spensers 
may  be  emblazoned  with  the  triumphs  of  a  Marl- 
borough,  but  I  exhort  them  to  look  upon  the 


KING  STREET,    WESTMINSTER.  249 

'Fairie  Queene'  as  the  proudest  jewel  in  their 
coronet." 

The  poet,  as  we  have  seen,  died  in  a  miserable 
lodging-house  of  absolute  want  of  bread ;  but,  as 
is  often  the  fate  of  genius,  the  breath  had  scarcely 
departed  from  his  body  when  the  great,  the  titled, 
and  the  powerful  came  forward  to  do  honour  to 
his  memory,  and  to  shower  laurels  on  his  grave. 
His  remains  were  carried  in  state  from  King  Street 
to  Westminster ;  the  expenses  of  his  funeral  were 
defrayed  by  the  great  favourite,  the  Earl  of  Essex. 
"  His  hearse,"  says  Camden,  "  was  attended  by  poets 
and  mournful  elegies ;  and  poems,  with  the  pens 
that  wrote  them,  were  thrown  into  his  tomb ; " 
and,  lastly,  the  celebrated  Anne,  Countess  of  Dor- 
set, erected  the  monument  over  his  grave. 

"  Oh !  it  sickens  the  heart  to  see  bosoms  so  hollow, 
And  spirits  so  mean  in  the  great  and  high-born; 
To  think  what  a  long  line  of  titles  may  follow 
The  relics  of  him  who  died  —  friendless  and  lorn ! 

"  How  proud  they  can  press  to  the  funeral  array 
Of  one,  whom  they  shunned  in  his  sickness  and 

sorrow :  — 
The  bailiffs  may  seize  his  last  blanket  to-day, 

Whose  pall  shall  be  held  up  by  nobles  to-morrow ! " 

One  would  like  to  be  able  to  point  out  the 
house  in  King  Street  in  which  once  resided  the 
courtier  and  poet,  Thomas  Carew,  the  most  grace- 
ful poet  of  the  reign  of  Charles  the  First,  and 


250  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

afterward  the  faithful  adherent  of  his  unfortunate 
master.  Here  it  was  that  Ben  Jonson,  Sir  Will- 
iam Davenant,  May,  the  translator  of  Lucan's 
"  Pharsalia,"  and  Sir  John  Suckling  were  his  fre- 
quent guests.  His  burial-place  is  unknown,  and 
even  the  year  of  his  death  is  a  disputed  point ; 
but  the  beautiful  song,  — 

"  He  that  loves  a  rosy  cheek, 
Or  a  coral  lip  admires,"  etc., — 

will  continue  to  be  read  and  appreciated  as  long 
as  the  English  language  shall  remain  in  existence. 
In  King  Street,  too,  lived  the  witty  and  accom- 
plished Charles,  Lord  Buckhurst,  afterward  Earl 
of  Dorset. 

"  For  pointed  satire  I  would  Buckhurst  choose, 
The  best  good  man  with  the  worst-natured  muse." 

This  was  a  high  compliment  from  Rochester  to 
his  friend,  and  he  afterward  said  of  him,  "  I  know 
not  how  it  is,  but  my  Lord  Dorset  can  do  any- 
thing, and  yet  is  never  to  blame."  This  was  the 
Lord  Dorset  so  celebrated  in  his  youth  for  his 
frolics  and  debaucheries,  and  in  later  years  for 
all  the  virtues  and  accomplishments  which  throw 
a  dignity  on  human  nature.  "  He  was  the  first 
nobleman,"  says  Horace  Walpole,  "  in  the  voluptu- 
ous court  of  Charles  the  Second,  and  in  the  gloomy 
one  of  King  William.  He  had  as  much  wit  as 
his  first  master,  or  his  contemporaries,  Buckingham 


KING  STREET,   WESTMINSTER.  251 

and  Rochester,  without  the  royal  want  of  feeling, 
the  duke's  want  of  principles,  or  the  earl's  want 
of  thought."  "Lord  Dorset,"  says  Bishop  Bur- 
net,  "was  so  lazy,  that,  though  the  king  seemed 
to  court  him  to  be  a  favourite,  he  would  not  give 
himself  the  trouble  that  belonged  to  that  post." 
Lord  Dorset  is  now,  perhaps,  principally  remem- 
bered from  his  famous  song,  "To  all  you  ladies 
now  on  land,"  addressed  to  the  ladies  of  the  gay 
court  of  Charles  the  Second,  and  composed  at 
sea,  with  singular  tranquillity  of  mind,  on  the  day 
before  the  great  sea  fight  in  1665,  hi  which 
Opdam,  the  Dutch  admiral,  was  blown  up  with 
all  his  crew : 

«*  To  all  you  ladies  now  on  land, 

We  men  at  sea  indite  ; 
But  first  would  have  you  understand 

How  hard  it  is  to  write : 
The  Muses  now,  and  Neptune  too, 
We  must  implore  to  write  to  you, 

With  a  fa,  la,  la,  la,  la,1'  etc. 

I  have  seldom  passed  through  King  Street  with- 
out calling  to  mind,  with  a  melancholy  interest, 
that  it  was  through  this  narrow  thoroughfare  that 
the  unfortunate  Charles  the  First  was  conducted 
on  the  first  and  last  days  of  his  memorable  trial 
in  Westminster  Hall.  On  the  first  occasion  he 
was  brought  from  St.  James's  through  the  park 
in  a  sedan-chair,  and  thence  through  King  Street, 
which  was  lined  on  each  side  with  soldiers,  his 


252  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

faithful  follower,  Herbert,  —  the  only  person  who 
was  allowed  to  attend  him,  —  walking  by  the  side 
of  the  sedan-chair  bareheaded.  After  his  condem- 
nation the  king  was  reconducted  in  the  same  con- 
veyance, and  by  the  same  route,  to  Whitehall.  As 
he  passed  through  King  Street,  we  are  told,  the 
inhabitants  —  unawed  by  the  presence  of  the  sol- 
diery—  stood  at  their  stalls  and  windows,  many 
of  them  with  tears  in  their  eyes,  and,  as  they 
gazed  on  the  painful  sight  of  fallen  majesty,  offered 
up  audible  prayers  for  his  safety  or  eternal  welfare. 
It  is  curious  to  find  that  at  the  time  of 
Charles's  execution  Oliver  Cromwell  was  residing 
in  King  Street,  and  it  was  at  this  house  that  he 
entered  his  coach  and  six,  amidst  the  cheers  of 
the  populace,  when  he  set  off,  six  months  after 
the  death  of  the  king,  to  commence  his  famous 
and  bloody  campaign  in  Ireland.  "This  evening, 
about  five  of  the  clock,  the  Lord  Lieutenant  of 
Ireland  began  his  journey  by  the  way  of  Wind- 
sor, and  so  to  Bristol.  He  went  forth  in  that  state 
and  equipage  as  the  like  hath  hardly  been  seen  : 
himself  in  a  coach  with  six  gallant  Flanders  mares, 
whitish  gray,  divers  coaches  accompanying  him, 
and  very  many  great  officers  of  the  army ;  his  life- 
guard consisting  of  eighty  gallant  men,  the  mean- 
est whereof  a  commander  or  esquire,  in  stately 
habit,  with  trumpets  sounding  almost  to  the  shak- 
ing of  Charing  Cross  had  it  been  now  standing. 
Of  his  life-guard  many  are  colonels,  and,  believe  it, 


KING  STREET,   WESTMINSTER.  253 

it's  such  a  guard  as  is  hardly  to  be  paralleled  in 
the  world."  The  house  which  is  believed  to  have 
been  the  residence  of  Cromwell  has  only  within 
the  present  century  been  rased  to  the  ground. 

Not  many  years  after  the  death  of  Charles, 
when  Cromwell  had  invested  himself  with  the 
power  and  pageantry  of  his  royal  victim,  he  was 
one  day  passing  through  King  Street  in  his  coach, 
on  his  way  from  Whitehall  to  Westminster,  when 
he  experienced  one  of  those  alarms  —  that  the 
hand  of  the  assassin  was  poised  above  him  — 
with  which,  not  without  reason,  he  was  con- 
stantly haunted  at  the  close  of  his  extraordinary 
career.  The  companion  of  the  Protector  in  the 
coach  was  Richard,  Lord  Broghill,  afterward  Earl 
of  Orrery,  on  whose  authority  Morrice,  his  chap- 
lain and  biographer,  thus  relates  the  anecdote : 
"  At  one  particular  time  it  happened  the  crowd 
of  people  was  so  great  that  the  coach  could  not 
go  forward,  and  the  place  was  so  narrow  that  all 
the  halberdiers  were  either  before  the  coach  or 
behind  it,  none  of  them  having  room  to  stand  by 
the  side.  While  they  were  in  this  posture,  Lord 
Broghill  observed  the  door  of  a  cobbler's  stall  to 
open  and  shut  a  little,  and  at  every  opening  of  it 
his  lordship  saw  something  bright,  like  a  drawn 
sword  or  a  pistol.  Upon  which  my  lord  drew  out 
his  sword  with  the  scabbard  on  it,  and  struck 
upon  the  stall,  asking  who  was  there.  This  was 
no  sooner  done,  but  a  tall  man  burst  out  with  a 


254  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

sword  by  his  side,  and  Cromwell  was  so  much 
frightened  that  he  called  his  guard  to  seize  him ; 
but  the  man  got  away  in  the  crowd.  My  lord 
thought  him  to  be  an  officer  in  the  army  of 
Ireland,  whom  he  remembered  Cromwell  had 
disgusted ;  and  his  lordship  apprehended  he  lay 
there  in  wait  to  kill  him.  Upon  this,  Cromwell 
forbore  to  come  any  more  that  way,  but  a  little 
time  after  sickened  and  died." 

The  next  occasion  on  which  Cromwell  passed 
through  King  Street  was  to  his  grave  in  West- 
minster Abbey.  The  funeral  procession  was  a 
magnificent  one,  and  this,  as  well  as  the  other 
streets  through  which  it  passed,  was  strewed  with 
gravel,  and  lined  on  each  side  by  soldiers,  in  "  red 
coats  and  black  buttons,"  with  their  regimental 
colours  enclosed  in  cypress.  The  hearse,  which 
was  open,  was  adorned  with  plumes  and  escutch- 
eons, and  was  drawn  by  six  horses  in  trappings  of 
black  velvet.  On  it  reclined  a  recumbent  waxen 
effigy  of  the  late  Protector,  habited  in  the  robes 
of  royalty,  with  a  crown  on  its  head,  and  the  globe 
and  sceptre  in  its  hands.  At  the  head  and  feet 
of  the  figure  were  placed  two  seats,  on  each  of 
which  sat  a  gentleman  of  the  bedchamber.  A 
velvet  pall,  extending  on  each  side  of  the  carriage, 
was  borne  by  several  persons  of  distinction ;  and, 
in  this  solemn  state,  the  body  of  the  once  simple- 
minded  country  gentleman  was  conducted  to  the 
great  western  entrance  of  the  abbey,  where  it  was 


KING  STREET,    WESTMINSTER.  255 

received  by  the  clergy,  and  was  left  for  a  brief 
while  to  rest  undisturbed  by  the  side  of  the  ashes 
of  our  ancient  kings. 

During  the  great  plague  in  1665,  King  Street 
was  one  of  the  places  which  was  first  visited  by 
the  giant  pestilence.  Its  vicinity  to  the  palace 
of  Whitehall  —  the  appalling  sight  of  the  red 
cross,  and  the  "  Lord,  have  mercy  upon  us," 
painted  upon  the  doors  —  terrified  the  neigh- 
bouring inhabitants  of  the  palace,  and  Charles 
the  Second  departed  with  his  voluptuous  court 
to  breathe  the  purer  air  of  Oxford.  Pepys  inserts 
in  his  diary  on  the  2Oth  of  June :  "  This  day  I 
informed  myself  that  there  died  four  or  five  at 
Westminster  of  the  plague,  in  several  houses,  upon 
Sunday  last,  in  Bell  Alley,  over  against  the  Palace 
Gate ; "  and  on  the  following  day  he  writes :  "  I 
find  all  the  town  going  out  of  town,  the  coaches 
and  carriages  being  all  full  of  people  going  into 
the  country."  Again,  on  the  28th,  he  writes  :  "In 
my  way  to  Westminster  Hall,  I  observed  several 
plague-houses  in  King  Street  and  the  palace;" 
and  on  the  2Qth,  "  To  Whitehall,  where  the  court 
was  full  of  wagons  and  people  ready  to  go  out 
of  town.  This  end  of  the  town  every  day  grows 
very  bad  of  the  plague."  "  For  some  weeks,"  says 
Lingard,  "  the  tide  of  emigration  flowed  from  every 
outlet  toward  the  country ;  it  was  checked,  at  last, 
by  the  refusal  of  the  lord  mayor  to  grant  certifi- 
cates of  health,  and  by  the  neighbouring  town- 


256  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

ships,  which  rose  in  their  own  defence,  and  formed 
a  barrier  around  the  devoted  city." 

King  Street  is  intimately  connected  with  the 
strange  fortunes  of  the  beautiful  and  accomplished 
actress,  Mrs.  Oldfield.  She  was  the  daughter  of 
a  Captain  Oldfield,  who  held  a  commission  in  the 
life  guards,  whose  extravagance  having  reduced  his 
widow  to  a  state  of  extreme  penury,  the  latter  was 
compelled  to  seek  an  asylum  in  the  house  of  her 
sister,  Mrs.  Voss,  who  kept  the  Mitre  Tavern  in 
St.  James's  Market,  and  who  was  apparently  the 
Mrs.  Voss  once  well  known  as  the  mistress  of 
Sir  Godfrey  Kneller.  In  consequence  of  her  re- 
duced circumstances,  Mrs.  Oldfield  was  compelled 
to  apprentice  her  beautiful  daughter  to  Mrs.  Wot- 
ton,  a  sempstress  in  King  Street,  from  whom  she 
occasionally  obtained  permission  to  visit  her  mother 
and  aunt  in  St.  James's  Market.  The  great  en- 
joyment of  the  young  girl  was  in  reading  plays, 
and  she  was  one  day  entertaining  her  relations  at 
the  Mitre  with  reading  aloud  to  them,  when  the 
musical  sweetness  of  her  voice  caught  the  ear  of 
the  celebrated  dramatic  writer,  George  Farquhar, 
who  happened  to  be  dining  at  the  tavern,  and  who, 
after  listening  at  the  door  for  a  few  moments, 
entered  the  apartment.  Struck  with  her  surpass- 
ing grace  and  beauty,  and  the  peculiar  talent 
which  she  displayed  for  the  stage,  Farquhar,  in 
conjunction  with  Sir  John  Vanbrugh,  introduced 
her  to  Rich,  the  patentee  of  Drury  Lane,  and,  at 


ZMrs.  Oldfield. 

Photo-etching  after  the  painting  by  Richardson. 


KING  STREET,   WESTMINSTER.  257 

the  age  of  sixteen,  she  made  her  appearance  in 
public  as  Candiope  in  Dryden's  play  of  "  Secret 
Love,"  with  a  salary  of  fifteen  shillings  a  week ! 
It  was  at  a  time  extremely  favourable  for  the 
d£but  of  a  young  actress.  Mrs.  Cross  had  just 
eloped  from  the  theatre  with  a  gay  baronet  ;  Mrs. 
Vanbruggen  had  recently  died  in  childbed  ;  and 
Mrs.  Barry  and  Mrs.  Bracegirdle  had  just  retired 
from  the  stage.  Miss  Oldfield  subsequently  per- 
formed the  character  of  Lady  Surewell  in  Far- 
quhar's  comedy  of  the  "  Constant  Couple,"  in  which 
she  was  so  successful  that  the  play  had  a  run  of 
fifty-one  nights.  By  this  time  she  had  grown  so 
much  in  favour  with  the  public  that  we  are  told 
Rich  increased  her  salary  to  twenty  shillings  a 
week !  Nor  does  it  seem  that  this  charming 
actress  ever  received  more  than  three  hundred 
guineas  a  year,  exactly  the  amount  of  what  a 
modern  actress  has  recently  had  the  modesty  to 
ask  for  performing  three  nights  !  Walpole,  speak- 
ing of  her  performance  of  Lady  Betty  Modish  in 
the  "Careless  Husband,"  observes:  "Had  her 
birth  placed  her  in  a  higher  rank  of  life,  she 
had  certainly  appeared  in  reality  —  what  in  this 
play  she  only  excellently  acted  —  an  agreeable 
gay  woman  of  quality,  a  little  too  conscious  of 
her  natural  attraction.  Women  of  the  first  rank 
might  have  borrowed  some  part  of  her  behaviour, 
without  the  least  diminution  of  their  sense  of 
dignity.  The  variety  of  her  powers  could  not  be 


258  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

known  till  she  was  seen  in  a  variety  of  characters, 
which,  as  fast  as  they  fell  to  her,  she  equally 
excelled  in."  The  young  actress  had  scarcely  ap- 
peared on  the  stage,  when  her  wit  and  beauty 
captivated  the  heart  of  Arthur  Maynwaring,  — 
celebrated  for  his  literary  and  personal  accomplish- 
ments, —  by  whom  she  had  one  son,  who  bore  the 
baptismal  and  surname  of  his  father,  and  who 
many  years  afterward  followed  his  mother  as  chief 
mourner  to  the  grave.  Maynwaring  dying  in  1712, 
of  a  cold  which  he  caught  in  visiting  the  Duchess 
of  Marlborough  at  St.  Albans,  Mrs.  Oldfield  shortly 
afterward  placed  herself  under  the  protection  of 
General  Charles  Churchill,  the  son  of  an  elder 
brother  of  the  great  Duke  of  Marlborough. 

"  None  led  through  youth  a  gayer  life  than  he, 
Cheerful  in  converse,  smart  in  repartee ; 
Sweet  was  his  night  and  joyful  was  his  day, 
He  dined  with  Walpole,  and  with  Oldfield  lay." 

—  Sir  C.  Hanbury  Williams, 

By  General  Churchill  she  had  also  one  son,  who 
married  Lady  Mary  Walpole,  a  natural  child  of 
Sir  Robert,  for  whom  he  obtained  the  rank  of  an 
earl's  daughter.  Their  daughter  Mary  married 
Charles,  third  Earl  of  Cadogan,  by  whom  she  was 
the  mother  of  the  late  Lady  Emily  Wellesley 
and  the  present  Marchioness  of  Anglesea.  Mrs. 
Oldfield  died  on  the  2$d  of  October,  1730,  at  the 
age  of  forty-seven,  and  as  her  life  had  been  dis- 


KING  STREET,   WESTMINSTER.  259 

tinguished  by  many  virtues,  so  was  her  end  pious 
and  resigned.  Her  remains  were  carried  with 
considerable  state  to  Westminster  Abbey,  through 
the  street  in  which  she  had  formerly  lived  a 
humble  sempstress  ;  her  pall  was  supported  by 
some  of  the  most  distinguished  men  in  the  coun- 
try, and  the  high  compliment  was  paid  to  her 
memory  of  her  body  being  allowed  to  lie  in  state 
in  the  Jerusalem  Chamber.  She  was  buried  toward 
the  west  end  of  the  south  aisle  of  the  abbey, 
between  the  monuments  of  Craggs  and  Congreve, 
near  the  Consistory  Court.  After  the  funeral  ser- 
vice had  been  read,  alluding  to  the  circumstance 
of  none  of  the  three  having  been  ever  married, 
a  bystander  was  indecent  enough  to  throw  into 
the  grave  a  slip  of  paper,  on  which  the  following 
lines  were  written  in  pencil : 

"  If  penance  in  the  bishop's  court  be  feared, 
Congreve,  and  Craggs,  and  Oldfield,  will  be  scared, 
To  find  that,  at  the  Resurrection  day, 
They  all  so  near  the  Consistory  lay." 

Mrs.  Oldfield  died  possessed  of  considerable 
property  in  money  and  jewels,  besides  a  valuable 
collection  of  medals,  statues,  and  pictures. 

From  this  somewhat  long  digression  let  us 
turn  to  the  streets  which  diverge  from  King 
Street,  which  have  each  their  particular  interest 
attached  to  them.  These  streets  consist  of  Down- 
ing Street,  Fludyer  Street,  anciently  called  Axe 


260  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

Yard,  and  Gardiner's  Lane,  all  running  parallel 
with  one  another  to  the  west. 

In  Downing  Street  stood  the  residence  of  the 
great  and  ancient  family  of  the  De  Veres,  Earls 
of  Oxford ;  and  here,  on  the  I2th  of  March,  1703, 
Aubrey  De  Vere,  the  twentieth  and  last  earl, 
breathed  his  last.  His  countess,  Diana  Kirk,  was 
the  sister  of  the  fair  and  frail  Mary  Kirk,  who 
occupies  so  prominent  a  position  in  the  pages  of 
De  Grammont.  The  earl's  remains  were  con- 
veyed from  his  house  in  Downing  Street  to  West- 
minster Abbey,  where  they  were  interred  in  St. 
John  the  Baptist's  Chapel. 

There  are  only  two  other  names  of  any  interest, 
those  of  Gibbon  and  Bos  well,  with  which  I  find 
Downing  Street  associated,  at  least  if  we  except 
the  many  celebrated  statesmen  who  have  trans- 
acted business  within  the  mean-looking  public 
offices  for  which  it  is  now  principally  celebrated. 
Here  the  great  historian,  Gibbon,  mentions  his 
having  been  frequently  the  guest  of  his  friend, 
Lord  Sheffield,  and  here  James  Boswell,  the  biog- 
rapher of  Doctor  Johnson,  was  residing  in  lodgings 
in  1763. 

It  was  in  Axe  Yard,  now  Fludyer  Street,  that 
the  misfortune  happened  to  the  celebrated  Sir 
William  Davenant  which  cost  him  his  nose,  and 
which  afforded  so  much  food  for  merriment  to  his 
brother  poets  in  the  reign  of  Charles  the  First. 
Sir  John  Suckling,  alluding  to  Davenant  having 


KING  STREET,    WESTMINSTER.  261 

been  selected  to  succeed  Ben  Jonson  as  poet 
laureate,  says,  in  his  "  Session  of  the  Poets  :  " 

"  Surely  the  company  would  have  been  content, 
If  they  could  have  found  any  precedent; 
But  in  all  their  records,  in  verse  or  in  prose, 
There  was  not  one  Laureate  without  a  nose." 

In  the  same  poem,  Suckling  attributes  the  loss  of 
Davenant's  nose  to  — 

"...  a  foolish  mischance, 

That  he  had  got  lately  travelling  in  France." 

Anthony  Wood,  however,  a  more  curious  re- 
searcher, tells  us,  in  his  "  Athense  Oxonienses  :  " 
"The  said  mischance,  which  Sir  John  mentions, 
happened  to  Davenant  through  a  dalliance  with  a 
handsome  black  girl  in  Axe  Yard  in  Westminster, 
on  whom  he  thought  when  he  spoke  of  Dalga  in 
his  '  Gondibert,'  which  cost  him  his  nose ;  and 
thereupon  some  wits  were  too  cruelly  bold  with 
him  and  his  accident,  as  Sir  John  Mennes,  Sir 
John  Denham,  etc."  In  1659-60,  we  find  the 
celebrated  Samuel  Pepys  residing  in  Axe  Yard  ; 
and  here,  after  the  name  had  been  changed  to 
Fludyer  Street,  resided  James  Macpherson,  the 
translator  of  Ossian's  poems,  as  we  learn  from 
Wraxall,  who  mentions  dining  with  him  on  more 
than  one  occasion  in  this  street. 

To  those  who  take  an   interest  in  the  literary 
history  of  the  streets  of  London,  Gardiner's  Lane 


262  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

will  always  be  especially  interesting,  as  being  the 
spot  where  the  celebrated  Winceslaus  Hollar, 
whose  inimitable  engravings  bring  back  so  vividly 
to  us  the  London  of  the  olden  times,  breathed  his 
last.  His  end  was  such  as  has  too  often  been  the 
fate  of  genius.  It  is  melancholy  to  reflect  that  so 
insufficiently  was  he  rewarded  for  the  indefatigable 
labours  of  a  long  life,  that,  when  he  was  on  the 
verge  of  his  seventieth  year,  an  execution  was  put 
into  his  house  in  Gardiner's  Lane,  and  he  narrowly 
escaped  becoming  the  inmate  of  a  jail.  He  desired, 
we  are  told,  only  the  liberty  of  dying  in  his 
bed,  and  that  he  might  not  be  removed  to  any 
other  prison  but  his  grave.  His  end  was  probably 
hastened  by  his  misfortunes.  He  died  on  the 
28th  of  March,  1677,  and,  attended  to  his  humble 
grave  by  a  few  friends,  was  buried  in  the  new 
churchyard  of  St.  Margaret's,  near  the  west 
end  of  Tothill  Street. 

Gardiner's  Lane  leads  us  into  Duke  Street, 
where,  as  we  have  already  mentioned,  stood  the 
house  of  the  infamous  Lord  Jeffries.  Here  also, 
for  many  years,  lived  the  celebrated  poet  and  poli- 
tician, Matthew  Prior.  To  Swift  he  writes  from 
Westminster  on  the  3<Dth  of  July,  1717:  "I  have 
been  made  to  believe  that  we  may  see  your  rever- 
end person  this  summer  in  England;  if  so,  I  shall 
be  glad  to  meet  you  at  any  place  ;  but  when  you 
come  to  London,  do  not  go  to  the  Cocoa  Tree,  but 
come  to  Duke  Street,  where  you  will  find  a  bed,  a 


KING  STREET,    WESTMINSTER.  263 

book,  and  a  candle ;  so  pray  think  of  sojourning 
nowhere  else."  Again,  Prior  writes  to  Swift  on 
the  5th  of  May,  1719  :  "  Having  spent  part  of  my 
summer  very  agreeably  in  Cambridgeshire,  with 
dear  Lord  Harley,  I  am  returned  without  him  to 
my  own  palace  in  Duke  Street,  whence  I  endeav- 
our to  exclude  all  the  tumult  and  noise  of  the 
neighbouring  Court  of  Requests,  and  to  live  aut 
nihil  agenda  aut  aliud  agenda,  till  he  comes  to 
town."  At  his  house  in  Park  Street,  close  by, 
died,  on  the  2/th  of  March,  1699,  the  celebrated 
divine,  Edward  Stillingfleet,  Bishop  of  Worcester. 
Running  parallel  with  King  Street  and  Parlia- 
ment Street  is  Cannon  Row,  or,  as  it  was  formerly 
called,  Channel  Row.  Pennant  conjectures  that 
it  derives  its  name  from  the  canons  of  the  neigh- 
bouring abbey,  and  that  the  word  was  subsequently 
corrupted  into  Channel  Row ;  when  we  find,  how- 
ever, that  a  branch,  or  channel,  of  the  Thames 
ran,  in  former  times,  between  the  north  end  of  the 
Row  and  Privy  Gardens,  we  feel  much  more  in- 
clined to  receive  the  ancient  name  as  the  correct 
one  than  to  accept  the  far-fetched  derivation  of 
Pennant,  and  which,  in  fact,  has  only  been  adopted 
in  modern  times.  Here  stood  the  magnificent 
residence  of  Anne  Stanhope,  the  second  and  tur- 
bulent wife  of  the  great  Protector,  Duke  of  Somer- 
set ;  here,  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  was 
the  inn  or  palace  of  the  Stanleys,  Earls  of  Derby ; 
close  by  was  the  mansion  of  Henry,  second  Earl 


264  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

of  Lincoln,  who  sat  in  judgment  on  Mary,  Queen 
of  Scots,  and  who  was  one  of  the  peers  deputed 
by  Queen  Elizabeth  to  arrest  the  Earl  of  Essex 
in  his  house;  here,  in  the  reign  of  James  the 
First,  the  Sackvilles,  Earls  of  Dorset,  had  their 
town  residence;  and  here,  also,  in  the  time  of 
Queen  Elizabeth,  was  the  mansion  of  the  great 
family  of  the  Cliffords,  Earls  of  Cumberland. 
Anne  Clifford,  Countess  of  Dorset,  informs  us 
that  here,  on  the  ist  of  May,  1589,  she  was  begot- 
ten by  her  most  valiant  father,  George,  Earl  of 
Cumberland,  on  the  body  of  her  most  virtuous 
mother,  Margaret,  daughter  of  Francis,  Earl  of 
Bedford.  This  lady  was  the  munificent  and  high- 
spirited  heiress  of  the  Cliffords;  who  married, 
first,  Richard  Sackville,  Earl  of  Dorset ;  who  sub- 
sequently became  the  wife  of  the  "memorable 
simpleton,"  Philip  Herbert,  Earl  of  Pembroke 
and  Montgomery ;  and  who  is  now,  perhaps,  best 
remembered  from  her  famous  letter  to  Sir 
Joseph  Williamson,  Secretary  of  State  to  Charles 
the  Second,  when  he  applied  to  her  to  nominate 
a  member  of  Parliament  for  the  borough  of 
Appleby : 

"  I  have  been  bullied  by  a  usurper ;  I  have  been 
neglected  by  a  court ;  but  I  will  not  be  dictated  to 
by  a  subject :  your  man  sha'n't  stand. 

"ANNE  DORSET, 
"  Pembroke  and  Montgomery." 


KING  STREET,   WESTMINSTER.  265 

Channel  Row  is  connected  by  a  curious  anec- 
dote with  the  last  days  of  Charles  the  First.  On 
one  of  the  nights  which  intervened  between  his 
trial  and  his  execution,  the  unfortunate  king  took 
a  ring  from  his  finger,  and,  delivering  it  to  his 
affectionate  follower,  Herbert,  desired  him  to  pro- 
ceed with  it  to  a  certain  house  in  Channel  Row, 
where  he  was  to  deliver  it  to  the  lady  of  the  house, 
without  saying  a  word.  This  person  proved  to 
be  Lady  Wheeler,  the  king's  laundress.  Having 
obtained  the  watchword  from  Colonel  Tomlinson, 
who  commanded  the  guard,  Herbert  proceeded, 
on  a  dark  night,  to  the  house  which  the  king  had 
designated.  Having  obtained  admittance,  he  was 
told  by  the  lady  to  wait  in  the  parlour  till  she 
returned.  She  shortly  afterward  reentered  the 
the  room,  and,  placing  in  his  hands  a  small  cabinet 
closed  with  three  seals,  desired  him  to  deliver  it 
to  the  same  person  from  whom  he  had  received 
the  ring.  The  next  morning,  in  Herbert's  pres- 
ence, the  king  broke  the  seals,  when  the  cabinet 
was  found  to  contain  a  number  of  diamonds  and 
jewels,  most  of  them  set  in  broken  insignia  of  the 
Order  of  the  Garter.  "This,"  said  the  king,  "is 
all  the  wealth  which  I  have  it  in  my  power  to 
bequeath  to  my  children."  Close  to  Channel  Row 
are  Manchester  Buildings,  the  site  of  the  residence 
of  the  Earls  of  Manchester. 

Passing  down  King  Street,  we  face  the  inter- 
esting Church  of  St.  Margaret's,  Westminster,. 


266  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

standing  beneath  the  shadow  of  the  magnificent 
abbey.  I  think  it  is  Smollett  who  indignantly 
observes  that  England  is  the  only  country  in  the 
world  where  a  stranger  is  not  made  welcome  to 
the  house  of  God.  The  neglected  and  disgraceful 
state  of  many  of  the  London  churches ;  the  exac- 
tion of  twopence  as  the  price  of  entering  the  great 
cathedral  of  St.  Paul's ;  the  necessity  of  feeing  a 
pew-opener  on  a  Sunday ;  and,  on  a  week-day,  of 
sending  to  an  ale-house  or  an  eating-house,  for  the 
attendance  of  a  sleepy  or  drunken  sexton  with  his 
keys,  is  indecent  and  discreditable  in  the  extreme. 
Putting  the  higher  consideration  of  religion  entirely 
out  of  the  question ;  putting  aside  the  miserable 
disfigurement  of  our  many  beautiful  churches  by 
pews  and  galleries,  and  the  invidious,  aristocratic, 
and  unchristian-like  distinction  which  is  now  made 
between  the  rich  and  the  poor,  the  public  have 
at  least  a  right  to  exact  from  the  English  clergy 
the  same  boon  which  is  granted  in  every  Christian 
city  in  Europe,  —  namely,  a  free  admission  to  the 
church  which  they  support  out  of  their  daily  means. 
London  is  rich  with  numerous  churches,  replete 
with  interesting  monuments,  historical  associations, 
and  architectural  beauty,  but  whether  we  seek  in- 
gress to  them  from  purely  devotional  feelings, 
whether  with  the  feelings  of  an  artist,  a  poet,  or 
a  devotee,  they  alike  engender  emotions  which 
advance  us  in  the  dignity  of  thinking  beings,  and 
consequently  ought  to  be  freely  opened  to  the 


KING  STREET,    WESTMINSTER.  267 

public.  We  are  yearly  throwing  open  the  doors 
of  palaces  and  museums  to  the  lower  orders,  free 
of  expense,  and  yet  the  doors  of  the  house  of 
God  are  still  closed  against  them.  As  an  English- 
man and  a  Protestant,  I  could  not  accompany  a 
foreigner  or  a  Roman  Catholic  to  any  one  of 
the  interesting  churches  of  London  without  a 
blush  ! 

St.  Margaret's  Church  was  originally  built  by 
Edward  the  Confessor.  The  abbey  had  previously 
been  used  as  the  parish  church,  to  the  great  incon- 
venience of  the  monks,  to  relieve  whom  the  Con- 
fessor caused  a  small  church  to  be  built  under 
the  wing  of  the  magnificent  pile  which  now  over- 
shadows it.  St.  Margaret's  was  rebuilt  in  the 
reign  of  Edward  the  First,  and  again  in  the  reign 
of  Edward  the  Fourth.  What  remains  of  the 
ancient  building  is  extremely  beautiful,  and  espe- 
cially the  altar  recess,  with  its  groined  roof,  its 
panelled  niches,  and  fresco  designs,  has  been 
much  and  deservedly  admired.  But  the  gem  of 
St.  Margaret's  is  the  magnificent  east  window, 
unquestionably  one  of  the  most  gorgeous  and 
beautiful  specimens  of  painted  glass  in  Europe. 
It  represents  the  history  of  the  crucifixion,  and 
was  made  by  order  of  the  magistrates  of  Dort, 
with  the  intention  of  presenting  it  to  Henry  the 
Seventh.  On  one  side  Henry  is  depicted  kneel- 
ing, with  his  patron  saint,  St.  George,  standing  in 
full  armour  in  a  niche  above  him.  On  the  other 


268  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

side  is  the  queen,  also  at  her  devotions,  and,  above 
her,  in  a  corresponding  niche,  St.  Catherine,  with 
the  instruments  of  her  martyrdom.  Five  years 
elapsed  before  the  completion  of  this  admirable 
work  of  art,  and  when  it  reached  England  Henry 
was  no  more.  Its  subsequent  history  is  interest- 
ing and  curious.  It  was  originally  set  up  in 
Waltham  Abbey,  where  it  remained  till  the  disso- 
lution of  that  monastery,  when  it  was  preserved 
from  destruction  by  the  last  abbot,  who  sent  it  to 
New  Hall,  a  seat  of  the  Butlers,  Earls  of  Ormond, 
in  Wiltshire.  In  the  course  of  the  next  century, 
it  passed  successively,  with  the  property  of  New 
Hall,  into  the  possession  of  the  Earl  of  Wiltshire, 
father  of  Anne  Boleyn,  Thomas  Radcliffe,  Earl  of 
Sussex,  George  Villiers,  Duke  of  Buckingham,  and 
General  Monk.  When  the  civil  wars  broke  out  it 
was  in  the  possession  of  Monk,  who,  dreading  that 
it  might  fall  a  sacrifice  to  the  blind  zeal  of  the 
bigoted  Puritans,  caused  it  to  be  carefully  taken 
to  pieces  and  buried  in  the  garden  at  New  Hall. 
Here  it  remained  till  the  Restoration,  when  it  was 
dug  up  and  restored  to  its  former  position  in  the 
chapel.  Some  years  afterward,  when  the  chapel 
at  New  Hall  fell  to  ruins,  the  window  was  again 
taken  down,  and  remained  for  a  considerable  time 
packed  up  in  boxes,  till  purchased  by  Mr.  Conyers 
for  his  chapel  at  Copthall,  in  Essex.  From  the 
son  of  this  gentleman  it  was  purchased,  in  1758, 
by  the  committee  appointed  for  repairing  and 


KING  STREET,    WESTMINSTER.  269 

beautifying    St.    Margaret's,    and   was    forthwith 
placed  in  its  present  position. 

In  addition  to  its  architectural  merits,  and  its 
beautiful  window,  St.  Margaret's  is  full  of  interest 
from  its  containing  the  remains  of  many  remark- 
able persons,  who  rest  either  in  its  vaults  or  in  the 
adjoining  churchyard.  Here  lies  the  honoured 
dust  of  William  Caxton,  who  first  introduced 
printing  into  England,  and  who  for  years  pursued 
his  quiet  but  priceless  labours  in  the  precincts  of 
the  adjoining  abbey.  In  the  chancel  lies  the 
body  of  the  celebrated  satirical  poet,  John  Skelton, 
who,  in  spite  of  his  unpolished  verse  and  his  buf- 
fooneries in  the  pulpit,  was  a  man  of  unquestion- 
able genius.  That  man  could,  indeed,  be  no 
literary  impostor,  of  whom  Erasmus  says,  in  one 
of  his  letters  to  Henry  the  Eighth,  that  he  was 
Britannicarum  literarum  lumen  et  decus,  "the 
light  and  glory  of  English  literature."  His  satirical 
ballads  against  the  mendicant  friars  made  him 
many  enemies  amongst  the  priesthood ;  but  his 
own  life  being  far  from  blameless,  it  had  the  effect 
of  weakening  the  attacks.  Anthony  Wood  tells  us 
"  he  was  guilty  of  many  crimes,  as  most  poets  are." 
At  length  Skelton  was  bold  enough  to  point  his 
satire  at  Cardinal  Wolsey.  The  officers  of  that 
powerful  minister  were  immediately  on  his  track, 
and  with  some  difficulty  he  escaped  from  them, 
and  took  refuge  in  the  sanctuary  at  Westminster. 
Here  he  was  treated  with  great  kindness  by  Abbot 


270  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

Islip,  and  here  he  breathed  his  last  in  1529, 
only  a  short  time  before  the  fall  of  the  great 
cardinal. 

Close  to  the  grave  of  Skelton  lies  a  brother 
poet,  Thomas  Churchyard,  of  whose  checkered 
fortunes  we  would  gladly  know  more  than  has 
been  handed  down  to  us.  When  a  child,  we  are 
told,  he  learned  to  play  the  lute  to  sweeten  his 
studies ;  but  at  the  age  of  seventeen  he  quitted 
his  father's  roof,  and,  with  only  a  small  sum  of 
money  in  his  pocket,  made  his  appearance  at  the 
court  of  Henry  the  Eighth.  Anthony  Wood  tells 
us  that  as  long  as  his  money  lasted  he  continued 
a  "  roysterer,"  but  his  means  being  soon  ex- 
hausted, he  gladly  obtained  admission  into  the 
household  of  the  accomplished  Henry  Howard, 
Earl  of  Surrey.  After  the  melancholy  death 
of  his  young  and  noble  patron,  Churchyard  was 
again  thrown  on  the  world.  He  then  became 
a  soldier  of  fortune,  but,  growing  tired  of  the  mili- 
tary profession,  he  travelled  into  foreign  countries, 
and,  on  his  return,  took  up  his  abode  at  Oxford 
for  the  purpose  of  pursuing  his  studies  at  his  ease. 
It  was  not  in  the  nature,  however,  of  the  restless 
poet  to  lead  for  any  length  of  time  the  life  of  a 
recluse.  Accordingly,  on  the  breaking  out  of  the 
war  with  Scotland,  be  hastened  to  that  country ; 
was  taken  prisoner  in  an  engagement  with  the 
enemy,  probably  the  battle  of  Pinkey  ;  and,  when  he 
obtained  his  release,  at  the  conclusion  of  the  war, 


KING  STREET,    WESTMINSTER.  2/1 

returned  to  the  court  "  very  poor  and  bare,  spoiled 
of  all,  and  his  body  in  a  very  sickly  and  decayed 
condition."  Fortune,  however,  once  more  smiled 
on  him  ;  he  was  taken  into  the  household  of  Eliza- 
beth's great  favourite,  Robert  Dudley,  Earl  of 
Leicester,  and  shortly  afterward  married  a  rich 
widow,  Mrs.  Catherine  Browning.  His  marriage 
proving  in  every  respect  an  unhappy  one,  the  poet 
again  took  up  arms,  and  in  the  wars  in  the 
Low  Countries  was  wounded  and  taken  prisoner. 
Charmed  with  his  agreeable  conversation  and  con- 
vivial qualities,  his  captors  treated  him  with  great 
kindness,  and  subsequently,  by  aid  of  a  lady  of 
quality,  who  either  compassionated  his  misfortunes, 
or  was  in  love  with  his  person,  he  found  means  to 
escape.  After  walking  on  foot  for  several  days 
through  an  enemy's  country,  he  at  length  con- 
trived to  rejoin  his  friends,  and  in  due  time 
returned  to  England.  Poor  and  restless,  his 
misfortunes  once  more  compelled  him  to  go  to 
the  wars.  He  was  again  taken  prisoner,  was  tried 
and  condemned  to  death  as  a  spy,  and,  only  on  the 
eve  of  the  sentence  being  carried  into  execution, 
was  reprieved  by  the  intercession  of  another  noble 
lady,  and  permitted  to  return  to  his  own  country. 
Such  were  the  strange  fortunes  of  the  gay,  the 
gallant,  and  gifted  Thomas  Churchyard !  Of  his 
subsequent  history  we  know  little,  except  that  his 
end,  like  that  of  most  poets,  was  one  of  penury 
and  privation.  There  was  formerly  a  monument 


272  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

to  his  memory  in  the  porch  of  St.  Margaret's 
Church,  of  which  Camden  has  preserved  the  in- 
scription, but  the  former  has  long  since  dis- 
appeared. 

Not  the  least  interesting  monument  in  St.  Mar- 
garet's Church  is  that  of  the  gallant  and  mag- 
nificent Charles,  Lord  Howard  of  Effingham,  to 
whom  Elizabeth  entrusted  the  chief  defence  of 
her  kingdom  at  the  threatened  approach  of  the 
formidable  Spanish  Armada.  He  subsequently 
commanded  the  naval  force  at  the  capture  of 
Cadiz  and  the  burning  of  the  Spanish  fleet ;  and 
it  was  in  his  ear  that  Queen  Elizabeth,  on  her 
death-bed,  murmured  the  last  words  which  ensured 
the  succession  to  James  the  First.  His  monu- 
ment, which  is  a  sumptuous  one,  contains  an 
effigy  of  the  gallant  admiral,  and  another  of  his 
countess. 

Under  the  high  altar  lie  the  headless  remains 
of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  who  was  executed  close  by 
in  Old  Palace  Yard;  and,  either  in -the  same 
grave,  or  in  its  immediate  vicinity,  rests  the  body 
of  James  Harrington,  the  well-known  author  of 
the  "Oceana."  According  to  Toland,  Harring- 
ton's biographer,  the  grave  of  the  great  political 
writer  is  "on  the  south  side  of  the  altar,"  next  to 
that  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh.  Here  also  was  buried, 
on  the  loth  of  February,  1652,  Milton's  second 
wife,  Catherine  Woodcock,  who  died  in  giving 
birth  to  a  daughter  within  a  year  after  her  mar- 


KING  STREET,    WESTMINSTER.  273 

riage,  and  on  whose  loss  the  great  poet  composed 
his  beautiful  sonnet  commencing  : 

"  Methought  I  saw  my  late  espoused  saint, 
Brought  to  me,  like  Alcestis,  from  the  grave,"  etc. 

One  can  almost  imagine  the  figure  of  the  blind 
poet  as  he  passed  up  the  nave  of  St.  Margaret's ; 
or  as  he  stood  by  the  side  of  the  open  grave, 
when  the  creaking  of  the  ropes  could  alone  have 
informed  him  that  his  beloved  wife  was  being 
lowered  into  her  last  home. 

The  only  other  person  of  any  note  who  appears 
to  have  been  interred  in  St.  Margaret's  Church  is 
the  gallant  cavalier,  Sir  Philip  Warwick,  the  faithful 
attendant  of  Charles  the  First  in  his  misfortunes, 
and  the  author  of  some  interesting  memoirs  of  his 
unfortunate  master.  With  the  exception  of  the 
monument  of  Lord  Howard  of  Efringham,  of  a 
tablet  erected  to  the  memory  of  Caxton  by  the 
Roxburgh  Club,  and  a  painted  board  which  records 
that  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  lies  buried  in  the  church, 
St.  Margaret's  contains  no  memorial  of  the  resting- 
places  of  the  many  remarkable  persons  whom  we 
have  mentioned  as  having  been  interred  within  its 
walls.  Nevertheless,  in  the  church  are  many  old 
and  curious  monuments  of  persons  less  known  to 
fame,  and  among  them  memorials  of  more  than 
one  faithful  adherent  of  our  Tudor  sovereigns. 

Before  quitting  St.  Margaret's  Church  we  must 
not  omit  to  mention  that  it  was  at  the  altar  that 


2/4  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

the  celebrated  Edward  Hyde,  Earl  of  Clarendon, 
was  married  to  his  second  wife,  Frances,  daughter 
and  heir  of  Sir  Thomas  Aylesbury,  Bart.  With 
this  lady  —  as  the  great  chancellor  himself  informs 
us  —  he  lived  "very  comfortably  in  the  most 
uncomfortable  times,  and  very  joyfully  in  those 
times  when  matter  of  joy  was  administered,  for 
the  space  of  five  or  six  and  thirty  years."  By 
this  wife  Lord  Clarendon  was  the  father  of  Anne 
Hyde,  Duchess  of  York,  who  became  the  mother 
of  Mary  and  Anne,  successively  Queens  of  Eng- 
land. 

One  would  willingly  be  able  to  point  out  the 
spot  in  St.  Margaret's  churchyard  where  rest  the 
remains  of  the  great  and  gallant  Admiral  Blake. 
The  Parliament  having  voted  him  a  public  funeral, 
he  was  buried  with  great  magnificence  in  Henry 
the  Seventh's  Chapel.  At  the  Restoration,  how- 
ever, to  the  great  disgrace  of  the  government,  his 
body  was  taken  up  and  flung  into  a  pit  in  St. 
Margaret's  churchyard.  At  the  same  time  were 
removed,  and  thrown  into  the  same  hole,  the 
bodies  of  Oliver  Cromwell's  mother ;  of  Thomas 
May,  the  translator  of  Lucan  and  the  historian  of 
the  Commonwealth ;  and  of  the  celebrated  Doctor 
Dorislaus,  assistant  to  the  high  court  of  justice 
which  tried  Charles  the  First.  His  murdered 
remains  had  been  brought  from  The  Hague,  where 
he  was  assassinated  by  the  royalists,  to  be  hon- 
ourably interred  in  Westminster  Abbey. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

WESTMINSTER. 

The  Sanctuary  —  Persons  Who  Took  Refuge  There  —  The 
Gatehouse  —  Its  History  —  Tothill  Street  —  The  Streets  of 
Old  Westminster — Westminster  School  —  Remarkable  Per- 
sons Educated  There. 

THE  famous  sanctuary  —  a  place  of  refuge  for 
criminals  apparently  from  the  time  of  Edward  the 
Confessor  —  stood  on  the  ground  on  which  the 
Westminster  Hospital  and  the  Guildhall  now  stand. 
The  church  which  belonged  to  it,  and  which  was 
in  the  form  of  a  cross  and  of  great  antiquity,  was 
pulled  down  about  1/50,  to  make  room  for  a  mar- 
ket which  was  afterward  held  on  its  site.  Doctor 
Stukely,  the  antiquary,  who  remembered  its  de- 
struction, informs  us  that  its  walls  were  of  vast 
strength  and  thickness,  and  that  it  was  not  with- 
out difficulty  that  it  was  demolished. 

When  Edward  the  Fourth,  in  1470,  was  com- 
pelled to  fly  the  kingdom  at  the  approach  of  the 
king-maker,  Warwick,  with  his  victorious  army, 
his  beautiful  queen,  Elizabeth  Grey,  flew  for  refuge 
to  the  sanctuary  at  Westminster,  and  in  its  pre- 
cincts she  was  delivered  of  her  eldest  son,  after- 
275 


276  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

ward  Edward  the  Fifth,  whose  subsequent  tragical 
fate  in  the  Tower  is  so  well  known. 

"  I'll  hence  forthwith  unto  the  sanctuary, 
To  save  at  least  the  heir  of  Edward's  right, 
There  shall  I  rest  secure  from  force  and  fraud. 
Come,  therefore,  let  us  fly,  while  we  may  fly, 
If  Warwick  take  us,  we  are  sure  to  die." 

Thirteen  years  afterward,  when  the  designs  of 
Richard,  Duke  of  Gloucester,  against  the  life  and 
authority  of  his  young  nephew  were  but  too 
apparent,  the  queen,  with  her  young  son,  the 
Duke  of  York,  again  flew  for  refuge  to  the  sanc- 
tuary at  Westminster.  We  all  remember  the 
beautiful  passage  in  "  Richard  the  Third,"  where 
the  broken-hearted  queen  bids  farewell  to  the 
Duchess  of  York,  and  hastens  with  her  child  to 
the  only  asylum  which  her  enemies  have  left  to 
her.  Her  eldest-born  was  already  in  the  hands 
of  the  usurper : 

"  Ah !  me,  I  see  the  ruin  of  my  house  : 
The  tiger  now  hath  seized  the  gentle  hind ; 
Insulting  tyranny  now  begins  to  jut 
Upon  the  innocent  and  aweless  throne. 
Welcome  destruction,  blood,  and  massacre ! 
I  see,  as  in  a  map,  the  end  of  all. 
Come,  come,  my  boy,  we  will  to  sanctuary." 

Anxious  by  all  means  to  get  the  young  Duke  of 
York  in  his  power,  and  enraged  at  his  prey  slip- 
ping through  his  hands,  Richard  summoned  his 
council,  and  unhesitatingly  proposed  to  take  the 


WESTMINSTER.  277 

young  prince  from  the  sanctuary  by  force.  To 
the  council  he  represented,  in  his  usual  plausible 
and  Jesuitical  manner,  the  indignity  which  had  been 
put  on  the  regency  by  the  queen's  ill-grounded  ap- 
prehensions, and  the  necessity  of  the  Duke  of 
York  walking  in  procession  at  the  coronation  of 
his  brother.  He  further  insisted  that  ecclesiasti- 
cal privileges  were  originally  intended  only  to  give 
protection  to  persons  persecuted  for  their  crimes 
or  debts,  and  could  therefore  in  no  way  apply  to 
one  of  tender  years,  who,  having  committed  no 
offence,  had  no  right  to  claim  security  from  any 
sanctuary.  There  were  present  at  the  council- 
table  Cardinal  Bourchier,  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury, and  Rotherham,  Archbishop  of  York,  who 
boldly  protested  against  the  sacrilege  of  the  meas- 
ure. The  church  of  Westminster,  to  which  the 
sanctuary  was  attached,  said  the  archbishops,  had 
been  consecrated  five  hundred  years  since  by  St. 
Peter  himself,  who  descended  from  heaven  in  the 
night,  attended  by  multitudes  of  angels.  No  King 
of  England,  they  added,  had  ever  dared  to  violate 
that  sanctuary,  and  such  an  attempt  would  cer- 
tainly draw  down  the  just  vengeance  of  God  upon 
the  whole  kingdom.  It  was  at  length  agreed  that 
the  two  primates  should  wait  on  the  queen  in  the 
sanctuary,  and  should  first  of  all  endeavour  to 
bring  the  queen  to  compliance  by  persuasion, 
before  any  more  violent  measures  were  resorted 
to.  The  scene  between  Gloucester's  creature,  the 


278  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

Duke  of  Buckingham,  and  Cardinal  Bourchier,  is 
admirably  dramatised  by  Shakespeare  : 

"  Buck.  .  .  .     Lord  Cardinal,  will  your  grace 

Persuade  the  Queen  to  send  the  Duke  of  York, 
Unto  his  princely  brother  presently? 
If  she  deny —  Lord  Hastings  go  with  him, 
And  from  her  jealous  arms  pluck  him  perforce. 

Card.     My  Lord  of  Buckingham,  if  my  weak  oratory 
Can  from  his  mother  win  the  Duke  of  York, 
Anon  expect  him  here  :  but  if  she  be  obdurate 
To  mild  entreaties,  God  in  heaven  forbid 
We  should  infringe  the  holy  privilege 
Of  blessed  sanctuary  !  not  for  all  this  land 
Would  I  be  guilty  of  so  deep  a  sin. 

Buck.     You  are  too  senseless  —  obstinate,  my  lord, 
Too  ceremonious,  and  traditional : 
Weigh  it  but  with  the  grossness  of  this  age, 
You  break  not  sanctuary  in  seizing  him. 
The  benefit  thereof  is  always  granted 
To  those  whose  dealings  have  deserved  the  place, 
And  those  who  have  the  wit  to  claim  the  place : 
This  prince  hath  neither  claimed  it,  nor  deserved  it ; 
And  therefore,  in  mine  opinion,  cannot  have  it : 
Then,  taking  him  from  thence,  that  is  not  there, 
You  break  no  privilege  nor  charter  there. 
Oft  have  I  heard  of  Sanctuary  men ; 
But  Sanctuary  children  ne'er  till  now. 

Card.     My  lord,  you  shall  o'errule  my  mind  for  once,  — 
Come  on,  Lord  Hastings,  will  you  go  with  me? 

Hast.     I  go,  my  Lord." 

There  can  be  little  doubt,  from  their  established 
character  for  integrity,  that  when  Cardinal  Bour- 
chier and  the  Archbishop  of  York  waited  on  the  un- 


WESTMINSTER.  279 

fortunate  queen,  in  the  sanctuary,  they  were  both 
fully  satisfied  of  Gloucester's  good  intentions,  and 
consequently  were  quite  sincere  when  they  used 
every  argument  and  entreaty  to  induce  her  to  give 
up  her  beloved  child.  She  remained  for  a  long  time 
obstinate,  but  finding  herself  unsupported  in  her 
opposition,  and  being  assured  that  force  would  in 
all  probability  be  used  should  she  persist  in  her 
obduracy,  she  at  last  complied,  and  produced  her 
son  to  the  two  prelates.  At  the  moment  of  part- 
ing she  is  said  to  have  been  struck  with  a  strange 
presentiment  of  his  future  fate.  But  it  was  now 
too  late  to  retract.  Overcome  with  feelings  which 
only  a  mother  can  experience,  she  caught  the  child 
in  her  arms,  wetted  him  with  her  tears,  and  at  last 
reluctantly  delivered  him  to  the  cardinal,  who  im- 
mediately conducted  him  to  the  Protector.  Rich- 
ard, we  are  told,  no  sooner  caught  sight  of  his 
young  nephew,  than  he  ran  toward  him  with  open 
arms,  and  kissing  him,  exclaimed,  "  Now  welcome, 
my  lord,  with  all  my  heart."  The  sequel  of  the 
melancholy  history  is  too  well  known  to  require 
recapitulation. 

The  neighbourhood  of  the  sanctuary  is  inti- 
mately connected  with  the  early,  as  well  as  with 
the  closing,  history  of  Ben  Jonson.  When  a 
scholar  at  Westminster  School,  he  must  often 
have  wandered  in  its  precincts  ;  in  a  house  over- 
looking St.  Margaret's  churchyard  he  died,  and 
in  the  neighbouring  abbey  he  lies  buried.  "  Long 


280  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

since,  in  King  James's  time,"  writes  Aubrey,  "I 
have  heard  my  Uncle  Danvers  say,  who  knew  him, 
that  Ben  Jonson  lived  without  Temple  Bar,  at  a 
comb-maker's  shop,  about  the  Elephant  and  Cas- 
tle. In  his  later  time  he  lived  in  Westminster,  in 
the  house  under  which  you  pass  as  you  go  out 
of  the  churchyard  into  the  old  palace,  where  he 
died.  He  lies  buried  in  the  north  aisle,  in  the 
path  of  square  stone  (the  rest  is  lozenge),  opposite 
to  the  scutcheon  of  Robertus  de  Rose,  with  this 
inscription  only  upon  him,  in  a  pavement  square, 
blue  marble,  about  fourteen  inches  square,  '  O  Rare 
Ben  Jonson,'  which  was  done  at  the  charge  of  Jack 
Young  (afterward  knighted),  who,  walking  there 
when  the  grave  was  covering,  gave  the  fellow 
eighteenpence  to  cut  it."  In  1780,  I  find  the 
celebrated  Edmund  Burke  residing  in  the  "  Broad 
Sanctuary,"  Westminster. 

At  the  end  of  Tothill  Street,  facing  the  towers 
and  the  great  western  entrance  of  the  abbey,  stood 
the  famous  Gatehouse,  built  in  the  reign  of  Edward 
the  Third,  —  anciently  a  prison  under  the  jurisdic- 
tion of  the  abbots  of  Westminster.  Formerly, 
when  malefactors  were  conducted  to  this  prison, 

—  in  order  to  prevent  their  touching  the  sanctu- 
ary, which  would  have  ensured  them  their  liberty, 

—  they  were  brought  by  a  circuitous  route  down 
a  small  lane,  running  parallel  with  Great  George 
Street,  which,  from  this   circumstance,    obtained 
the  name  of  Thieving  Lane.     It  was  in  the  Gate- 


WESTMINSTER.  281 

house,  Westminster,  that  one  of  the  sweetest  of 
love-poets,  Richard  Lovelace,  —  so  celebrated  for 
his  misfortunes  and  the  beauty  of  his  person,  — 
suffered  imprisonment  for  his  loyalty  to  his  unfor- 
tunate master,  Charles  the  First.  Here  it  was,  too, 
that  he  composed  his  beautiful  song,  "  To  Althea, 
from  prison." 

"  When  Love,  with  unconfined  wings, 

Hovers  within  my  gates, 
And  my  divine  Althea  brings 

To  whisper  at  my  gates  ; 
When  I  lie  tangled  in  her  hair, 

And  fettered  to  her  eye,  — 
The  birds  that  wanton  in  the  air, 

Know  no  such  liberty. 

"  Stone  walls  do  not  a  prison  make, 

Nor  iron  bars  a  cage  ; 
Minds  innocent  and  quiet  take 

That  for  an  hermitage. 
If  I  have  freedom  in  my  love, 

And  in  my  soul  am  free,  — 
Angels  alone,  that  soar  above, 

Enjoy  such  liberty." 

In  the  Gatehouse,  Westminster,  died  the  cele- 
brated dwarf,  Sir  Jeffery  Hudson,  whose  name  is 
immortalised  in  the  pages  of  the  greatest  writer 
of  fiction  in  modern  times.  He  was  born  in  1619, 
at  Oakham,  in  Rutlandshire,  "the  least  man,  in 
the  least  county."  When  in  his  tenth  year  he 
was  presented  to  the  Duchess  of  Buckingham 
by  his  father,  a  tall  and  broad-shouldered  yeoman, 


282  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

who  had  charge  of  the  "baiting-bulls  "  of  George 
Villiers,  the  first  duke.  The  duchess  had  him 
dressed  in  satin,  with  two  tall  footmen  to  attend 
on  him ;  and  it  was  not  long  afterward,  when 
Charles  the  First  and  Henrietta  Maria  paid  a  visit 
to  the  duke  and  duchess,  at  Burghley-on-the-hill, 
that  the  little  fellow  was  served  up  to  their  Majes- 
ties under  the  crust  of  a  cold  pie.  Immediately  on 
his  stepping  out  he  was  presented  by  the  duchess 
to  the  queen,  in  whose  service  he  ever  afterward 
remained,  and  was  twice  painted  in  attendance 
on  her  by  Vandyke.  At  the  breaking  out  of  the 
civil  wars,  he  obtained  a  commission  as  captain  of 
horse,  and  subsequently  accompanied  his  royal  mis- 
tress to  France,  where  he  remained  till  the  Resto- 
ration. Fuller  says  of  him  that,  "  though  a  dwarf, 
he  was  no  dastard."  On  one  occasion,  having  been 
teased  beyond  bearing  by  a  young  courtier  of  the 
name  of  Crofts,  Sir  Jeffery  challenged  his  perse- 
cutor to  single  combat,  when,  to  his  annoyance, 
Crofts  appeared  on  the  ground  with  a  squirt  in  his 
hand.  A  real  meeting  was  the  result.  It  was 
agreed  that  they  should  fight  on  horseback  with 
pistols,  and,  at  the  first  shot,  Sir  Jeffery  shot  his 
antagonist  dead.  In  1682,  he  was  most  absurdly 
implicated  by  Titus  Gates,  in  the  still  more  absurd 
Popish  Plot,  and  in  consequence  was  committed  to 
the  Gatehouse,  where  he  died  shortly  afterward, 
in  his  sixty-third  year.  In  Newgate  Street,  over 
the  entrance  to  a  small  court,  on  the  north  side  of 


WESTMINSTER.  283 

the  street,  may  be  seen  a  small  piece  of  sculpture 
in  stone,  representing  the  figures  of  William 
Evans,  the  gigantic  porter  of  Charles  the  First, 
and  by  his  side  the  redoubtable  Sir  Jeffery.  This 
was  the  enormous  porter  who,  at  one  of  the  court 
masks  at  Whitehall,  drew  the  little  knight  from 
his  pocket,  to  the  astonishment  of  the  guests, 
and  who  was  ever  afterward  Sir  Jeffery's  especial 
abhorrence. 

Tothill  Street  derives  its  name  from  an  exten- 
sive meadow,  called  Tothill-field,  or  as  Fabyan 
describes  it  in  1238,  "a  fielde  by  Westmynster, 
lying  at  ye  west  end  of  ye  church."  On  the 
occasion  of  the  magnificent  rejoicings  which  took 
place  in  the  ancient  palace  of  Westminster,  at  the 
coronation  of  Queen  Eleanor,  consort  of  Henry 
the  Third,  we  find  "  royal  solemnities  and  goodly 
joustes"  kept  up  during  eight  days  in  Tothill- 
fields.  Ten  years  afterward,  in  1248,  the  hatred 
which  Henry  bore  the  citizens  of  London  (whom 
he  reproached  with  "  calling  themselves  barons, 
on  account  of  their  wealth ")  induced  him  to 
endeavour  to  injure  their  trade  by  diverting  their 
profits  into  other  channels  ;  and,  accordingly,  he 
adopted  the  expedient  of  granting  a  license  to  the 
Abbot  of  Westminster,  for  holding  an  annual  fair 
for  fifteen  days  in  Tothill-fields.  This  fair,  from 
its  being  held  at  St.  Edward's-tide  (October),  was 
called  St.  Edward's  Fair.  "To  the  end,"  says 
Holinshed,  "  that  the  same  should  be  more  haunted 


284  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

with  all  manner  of  people,  the  king  commanded 
by  proclamation  that  other  fairs  holden  in  that 
season  should  not  be  kept,  nor  that  any  wares 
should  be  showed  within  the  city  of  London,  either 
in  shop  or  without ;  but  that  such  as  would  sell 
should  come  for  that  time  unto  Westminster.  This 
was  done,  but  not  without  great  trouble  and  pains 
to  the  citizens,  who  had  not  room  there  but  in 
booths  and  tents,  to  their  great  disquieting  and 
disease  for  want  of  necessary  provision,  being  tur- 
moiled  too  pitifully  in  mire  and  dirt,  through  occa- 
sion of  rain."  At  this  period,  the  house  of  John 
Mansel,  Priest  and  King's  Counsel,  was  probably 
the  only  one  in  Tothill-fields.  The  mansion  must 
have  been  a  spacious  one,  for  in  1256  we  find 
him  entertaining  here,  with  great  magnificence, 
Henry  the  Third  and  his  queen,  the  King  of 
Scotland,  and  a  great  number  of  the  wealthy 
citizens  of  London. 

In  the  latter  part  of  the  reign  of  Queen  Eliza- 
beth, Tothill  Street  must  have  been  a  fashionable 
quarter  of  the  town  ;  at  least  if  we  may  judge 
from  the  fact  of  Lord  Dacres  and  Lord  Grey 
having  severally  had  houses  here.  The  name  of 
the  former  nobleman  is  still  preserved  in  Dacre 
Street,  near  the  west  end  of  Tothill  Street.  We 
must  not  forget  to  mention  that  the  celebrated 
actor,  Thomas  Betterton,  the  son  of  an  under 
cook  to  Charles  the  First,  was  born  in  Tothill 
Street,  in  1635. 


WESTMINSTER.  285 

If  the  reader  is  not  unwilling  to  trust  himself 
among  gloomy  streets  and  dingy  alleys,  and 
amidst  a  somewhat  lawless  population,  he  will  be 
repaid  by  making  a  short  circuit  around  the  old 
city  of  Westminster.  Diving  into  Little  Dean 
Street,  to  the  west  of  Tothill  Street,  we  stand  on 
the  site  of  the  old  Almonry,  where,  as  we  have 
already  mentioned,  the  monks  were  accustomed 
to  distribute  their  alms,  and  where,  under  the 
protection  of  the  abbot,  Caxton  set  up  the  first 
printing-press  which  was  established  in  England, 
and  printed  his  first  book,  "The  Game  and 
Play  of  the  Chesse."  Close  by,  between  the 
east  end  of  Orchard  Street  and  Dean's  Yard, 
stood  the  little  Almonry,  interesting,  as  having 
been  the  spot  where  the  celebrated  James  Har- 
rington lived  for  many  years,  and  where  he  ap- 
parently died.  Aubrey  has  not  only  pointed  out 
the  spot  with  great  minuteness,  but  has  also  left 
us  a  curious  picture  of  the  great  political  writer 
as  he  appeared  at  the  close  of  life.  "  His  du- 
rance in  prison,"  says  Aubrey,  "  was  the  cause 
of  derilation  or  madness,  which  was  not  outra- 
geous, for  he  would  discourse  rationally  enough, 
and  he  was  very  facetious  company  ;  but  he  grew 
to  have  a  fancy  that  his  perspiration  turned  to 
flies,  and  sometimes  to  bees  ;  and  he  had  a  ver- 
satile timber  house  built  in  Mr.  Hart's  garden, 
opposite  to  St.  James's  Park,  to  try  the  experi- 
ment. He  would  turn  it  to  the  sun,  and  sit 


286  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

toward  it ;  then  he  had  his  fox-tails  to  chase  away 
and  massacre  all  the  flies  and  bees  that  were  to 
be  found  there,  and  then  shut  his  chasses.1  Now 
this  experiment  was  only  to  be  tried  in  warm 
weather,  and  some  flies  would  lie  so  close  in  the 
crannies  and  the  cloth  with  which  the  place  was 
hung,  that  they  would  not  presently  show  them- 
selves. A  quarter  of  an  hour  after,  perhaps,  a 
fly  or  two,  or  more,  might  be  drawn  out  of  the 
lurking-holes  by  the  warmth,  and  then  he  would 
cry  out,  '  Do  you  not  see  it  is  evident  that  these 
come  from  me?'  'Twas  the  strangest  sort  of 
madness  that  ever  I  found  in  any  one  :  talk  of 
anything  else,  his  discourse  would  be  very  in- 
genious and  pleasant.  Anno he  married  his 

old   sweetheart,    Mistress Daynell,  a  comely 

and  discreet  lady.  It  happening  so,  from  some 
private  reasons,  that  he  could  not  enjoy  his 
dear  in  the  flower  of  his  youth,  he  would  never 
lie  with  her ;  but  loved  and  admired  her  dearly  ; 
for  she  was  vergentibus  annis  when  he  married 
her,  and  had  lost  her  sweetness.  In  his  conver- 
sation he  was  very  friendly,  facetious,  and  hos- 
pitable. For  above  twenty  years  before  he  died, 
he  lived  in  the  little  Almonry,  in  a  fair  house 
on  the  left  side,  which  looks  into  the  Dean's 
Yard,  Westminster.  In  the  upper  story  he  had 

1  Sic  Orig.  This  exceeds  even  the  fancy  of  Lord  Herbert  of 
Cherbury,  who  tells  us  that  his  perspiration  emitted  so  sweet  an 
odour  that  it  scented  the  room. 


WESTMINSTER.  287 

a   pretty   gallery,    which    looked    into    the    yard 

(over Court),  where  he  commonly  dined,  and 

meditated,  and  took  his  tobacco."  In  1708,  we 
find  Lord  Ashburnham,  as  well  as  the  Bishops 
of  Lincoln  and  Rochester,  residing  in  Dean's 
Yard. 

At  the  end  of  Tothill  Street  is  Petty  France,  so 
called  from  the  number  of  French  refugees  who 
settled  here  on  the  revocation  of  the  Edict  of 
Nantes  by  Louis  the  Fourteenth.  But  without 
entering  its  wretched  streets,  which  contain  little 
that  is  interesting,  let  us  turn  down  the  Broadway 
to  the  left,  and  we  shall  face  the  "  New  Chapel," 
built  originally  in  the  time  of  Charles  the  First, 
at  the  expense  of  the  Rev.  George  Davell,  one 
of  the  prebendaries  of  Westminster,  as  a  chapel  of 
ease  for  the  inhabitants  of  Petty  France  and 
of  the  neighbouring  streets.  The  spot  is  not 
without  interest.  During  the  civil  wars  it  was 
converted  into  a  stable  for  the  horses  of  the  re- 
publican troopers,  but  was  again  fitted  up  as  a 
chapel  at  the  Restoration.  In  the  burying-ground 
attached  to  it  lie  the  remains  of  the  great  artist, 
Winceslaus  Hollar,  and  within  the  walls  of  the 
old  chapel  was  buried  "privately  but  decently" 
the  body  of  the  memorable  Colonel  Blood.  So 
strange  and  restless  had  been  the  career  of  this 
extraordinary  man,  that  his  contemporaries  seem 
to  have  imagined  it  impossible  that  so  turbulent 
a  spirit  could  ever  lie  quiet  in  the  grave.  The 


288  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

general  opinion  appears  to  have  been,  at  the  time, 
that  his  funeral  was  a  mere  imposition,  prepara- 
tory to  some  more  extraordinary  exploit  than  any 
other  he  had  hitherto  performed.  At  all  events, 
the  body  of  the  formidable  bravo  was  not  allowed 
to  remain  quiet  in  its  resting-place.  The  rumours, 
we  are  told,  of  his  interment  being  suppositious 
became  at  last  so  current  in  the  neighbourhood, 
and  "  so  many  circumstances  were  added  to  ren- 
der it  credible,"  that  the  coroner  thought  fit  to 
order  the  body  to  be  taken  up  again  on  the 
Thursday  following,  and  appointed  a  jury  to  sit 
upon  it.  But  so  strongly  were  they  possessed 
with  the  idle  fancy  of  Blood  being  still  alive,  that 
though  the  jury  were  his  neighbours  and  knew  him 
personally,  and  though  he  had  been  dead  only  a 
few  days,  it  was  a  considerable  time  before  they 
could  come  to  the  conclusion  whether  it  was  his 
body  or  not.  At  last  a  bystander  drew  the  atten- 
tion of  the  jury  to  the  thumb  of  Blood's  left  hand, 
which,  by  some  accident,  had  grown  to  twice  its 
original  size.  This  circumstance,  added  to  the 
depositions  of  several  persons  who  had  visited 
him  in  his  last  illness,  at  length  convinced  the 
jury  of  the  identity,  and  the  coroner  having  issued 
his  order  for  the  reinterment  of  the  body,  it  was 
allowed  to  remain  in  peace. 

Adjoining  the  burying-ground  of  New  Chapel, 
to  the  westward,  was  the  Artillery  Ground,  a  name 
which  we  find  still  preserved  in  "  Artillery  Brew- 


WESTMINSTER.  289 

ery,"  which  stands  on  part  of  its  site.  In  those 
dreadful  days,  during  the  raging  of  the  plague  in 
1665,  when  the  red  cross  and  the  "Lord,  have 
mercy  upon  us  "  were  painted  on  the  doors  of  half 
the  houses  in  London ;  when  the  dead-cart  went 
its  round  in  the  still  night,  and  the  tinkle  of  the 
bell  and  the  cry  of  "Bring  out  your  dead  "  alone 
broke  the  awful  silence,  it  was  in  a  vast  pit  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  the  Artillery  Ground  that 
the  frequent  dead-carts  discharged  their  noisome 
cargoes  by  the  fitful  light  of  the  torches  which 
the  buryers  held  in  their  hands.  In  one  of  the 
journals  of  the  period  we  find  a  complaint  made, 
in  regard  to  these  burial-places,  that  "the  bodies 
are  piled  even  to  the  level  of  the  ground,  and 
thereby  poison  the  whole  neighbourhood."  The 
Pest  House  in  the  fields  beyond  Old  Street,  and 
that  in  Tothill-fields,  appear  to  have  been  the 
two  principal  ones  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
metropolis. 

Passing  along  Stretton  Street  we  turn  down 
Great  Peter  Street,  from  the  centre  of  which,  on 
the  east  side,  diverges  Great  St.  Anne  Street,  in 
which  it  would  seem  that  one  of  the  sweetest  of 
poets,  Robert  Herrick,  resided  after  the  Restora- 
tion of  Charles  the  Second.  The  poet  himself 
writes  : 

"  To  Richmond,  Kingston,  and  to  HamptonCourt, 
Never  again  shall  I  with  finny  oar 
Put  from,  or  draw  unto  the  faithful  shore ; 


290  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

And,  landing  here,  or  safely  landing  there, 
Make  way  to  my  beloved  Westminster." 

Continuing  our  route  down  Peter  Street,  the 
corner  house  of  this  street  and  Tufton  Street  is 
that  which  tradition  points  out  as  the  house  to 
which  Blood  retired  after  he  made  his  famous 
attempt  on  the  crown  jewels  in  the  Tower. 
Whether  or  no  this  be  the  case,  it  is  certain  that 
the  house  in  which  Blood  latterly  lived,  and  in 
which  he  breathed  his  last,  was  in  Bowling  Alley, 
a  continuation  of  Tufton  Street.  He  was  attended 
in  his  last  illness  by  a  clergyman,  who  found  him 
sensible  but  reserved,  and  to  whom  he  declared 
that  he  had  no  fear  of  death. 

Bowling  Alley  leads  us  into  College  Street,  of 
which  I  find  more  than  one  notice  in  Gibbon's 
interesting  "  Memoir  of  His  Life  and  Writings." 
Speaking  of  his  return  from  the  Continent  in  1758, 
he  writes  :  "  The  only  person  in  England  whom  I 
was  impatient  to  see  was  my  Aunt  Porten,  the 
affectionate  guardian  of  my  tender  years.  I 
hastened  to  her  house  in  College  Street,  West- 
minster, and  the  evening  was  spent  in  the  effu- 
sions of  joy  and  confidence.  It  was  not  without 
some  awe  and  apprehension  that  I  approached  the 
presence  of  my  father.  My  infancy,  to  speak  the 
truth,  had  been  neglected  at  home  ;  the  severity 
of  his  look  and  language  at  our  last  parting  still 
dwelt  on  my  memory,  nor  could  I  form  any  notion 
of  his  character  or  my  probable  reception.  They 


WESTMINSTER.  291 

were  both  more  agreeable  than  I  could  expect." 
The  great  historian  again  mentions  his  passing 
through  Westminster,  on  the  occasion  of  the  last 
visit  which  he  paid  to  his  beloved  Lausanne.  "  As 
my  post-chaise,"  he  says,  "  moved  over  West- 
minster Bridge,  I  bade  a  long  farewell  to  the 
fumum  et  opes,  strepitiimque  Roma" 

Near  the  south  end  of  College  Street  is  the  fan- 
tastic-looking church  of  St.  John  the  Evangelist, 
with  its  four  pinnacles,  one  at  each  corner,  which 
form  such  prominent  objects  from  the  different 
points  of  the  metropolis  at  which  they  are  visible. 
This  church,  the  work  of  Sir  John  Vanbrugh,  was 
commenced  in  1721,  and  completed  in  1728.  I 
cannot  discover  that  any  particular  interest  at- 
taches to  it.  It  has  been  much  censured  for  its 
excess  of  ornament,  but  it  is  not  altogether  desti- 
tute of  architectural  beauty,  and  the  portico,  sup- 
ported by  Doric  columns,  has  been  deservedly 
admired. 

To  the  west  of  the  church  of  St.  John  the 
Evangelist  is  Millbank,  which  derives  its  name 
from  a  mill  which  formerly  stood  here.  Here 
subsequently  stood  the  mansion  of  the  Mordaunts, 
Earls  of  Peterborough,  in  which  family  it  remained 
till  the  time  of  Charles  Mordaunt,  the  third  earl, 
whose  talents  and  eccentricities  have  rendered  his 
name  so  famous.  "  Here,  in  my  boyish  days," 
says  Pennant,  "  I  have  often  experienced  the  hos- 
pitality of  the  late  Sir  Robert  Grosvenor,  its 


2Q2  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

worthy  owner,  who  enjoyed  it  by  the  purchase,  by 
one  of  his  family,  from  the  Mordaunts."  There  is 
extant  an  engraving  by  Hollar,  of  old  Peterborough 
House.  Abingdon  Street,  a  continuation  of  Mill- 
bank  Street,  derives  its  name  from  a  mansion 
belonging  to  the  Earls  of  Abingdon,  which  for- 
merly stood  on  the  site,  and  which  was  previously 
called  Lindsey  House,  from  having  been  in  the 
possession  of  the  Berties,  Earls  of  Lindsey. 

Before  concluding  our  notices  of  the  old  city  of 
Westminster,  let  us  stroll  into  Dean's  Yard,  and 
dwell  a  short  time  on  the  ancient  and  interesting 
school,  which  nestles  itself  beneath  the  walls  of 
the  venerable  abbey,  and  where  so  many  of  the 
most  celebrated  men  in  the  literary  annals  of  our 
country  have  passed  the  happiest,  for  it  was  the 
earliest,  part  of  their  lives.  To  the  author  it  is 
a  most  interesting  spot.  The  ground  on  which 
Westminster  School  now  stands  —  and  a  great 
portion  of  the  ancient  walls  remain  to  remind  us 
of  the  monastic  history  of  the  past  —  was  formerly 
entirely  occupied  by  the  apartments  of  the  abbot, 
the  dormitories  of  the  monks,  the  refectory,  the 
granary,  and  other  monastical  buildings.  The  dor- 
mitory of  the  king's  scholars  stands  on  the  site  of 
the  old  granary,  built  by  Abbot  Littlington,  who 
died  in  1386 ;  and  the  hall  in  which  they  dine  was 
formerly  the  refectory  of  the  old  abbots. 

That  there  was  a  school  near  the  spot,  under 
the  direction  of  the  monks,  in  the  time  of  the 


WESTMINSTER.  293 

Saxon  kings,  there  can  be  no  doubt.  Ingulphus, 
Abbot  of  Crowland,  speaks  of  his  having  been 
educated  at  it,  of  the  disputations  which  he  had 
here  with  the  queen  of  the  Confessor,  and  of  the 
presents  which  she  made  him  in  money  in  his 
boyish  days.  It  was  not,  however,  till  1560,  a  few 
years  after  the  dissolution  of  the  monasteries,  that 
Queen  Elizabeth  founded  the  present  institution 
for  the  classical  education  of  forty  boys,  who  are 
still  designated  as  king's  or  queen's  scholars. 

One  of  the  earliest  head-masters  of  Westminster 
School  was  the  celebrated  antiquary  and  historian, 
William  Camden.  Old  Aubrey  tells  us  —  on  the 
authority  of  William  Bagshawe,  who  had  been  one 
of  the  under-masters  of  the  school  —  that  Cam- 
den's  lodgings  were  in  "the  gatehouse  by  the 
queen's  scholars'  chambers  in  Dean's  Yard ;  "  and 
from  hence  he  used  to  wander  forth,  when  his 
pupils  were  at  play,  to  copy  the  inscriptions  on 
the  ancient  tombs  of  Westminster  Abbey,  in  which 
occupation  the  gifted  antiquary  unquestionably 
took  far  more  delight  than  in  impressing  on  his 
pupils  the  necessity  of  learning  hard  words,  or  in 
flagellating  the  idle  or  the  dull.  Ben  Jonson  was 
one  of  his  pupils,  and  the  pupil  loved  and  revered 
his  master.  How  gratifying  must  it  have  been  to 
Camden  when  the  great  dramatist,  at  the  early  age 
of  twenty-four,  dedicated  to  his  old  master,  in  a 
most  affectionate  address,  the  first,  and  perhaps 
the  most  admirable,  of  his  dramatic  productions, 


294  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

"  Every  Man  in  His  Humour."  "  It  is  a  frail  mem- 
ory," he  says,  "  that  remembers  but  present  things. 
.  .  .  Now  I  pray  you  to  accept  this  ;  such  wherein 
neither  the  confession  of  my  manners  shall  make 
you  blush,  nor  of  my  studies  repent  you  to  have 
been  the  instructor ;  and  for  the  profession  of  my 
thankfulness,  I  am  sure  it  will,  with  good  men,  find 
either  praise  or  excuse.  Your  true  lover,  BEN  JON- 
SON."  This  affectionate  and  interesting  dedication 
is  addressed  "To  the  most  learned,  and  my  hon- 
oured friend,  Master  Camden."  What  pedagogue 
of  the  present  day  has  ever  had  such  a  tribute 
offered  to  him  by  such  a  man  ? 

Glancing  at  the  two  great  schools  of  Eton  and 
Westminster,  one  would  have  imagined  that  Eton, 
from  its  rural  and  romantic  situation,  its  vicinity 
to  Windsor,  its  interesting  associations,  and  its 
picturesque  playing-fields,  — 

"  Whose  turf,  whose  shade,  whose  flowers  among, 
Wanders  the  hoary  Thames  along 
His  silver-winding  way,"  — 

possessed  all  the  qualities  usually  thought  requisite 
to  engender  or  to  stimulate  poetical  genius  ;  while, 
on  the  other  hand,  Westminster,  from  its  confined 
situation  and  dingy  atmosphere,  would  almost  seem 
to  be  an  antidote  to  poetical  fire.  Eton,  more- 
over, would  seem  to  possess  no  particular  ad- 
vantages for  nursing  orators  or  statesmen  ;  while 
Westminster,  from  its  vicinity  to  the  Houses  of 


WESTMINSTER.  295 

Parliament,  and  the  liberty  allowed  the  students 
of  attending  the  debates,  holds  out  every  incite- 
ment to  young  ambition,  if  gifted  with  oratorical 
talent.  In  both  cases,  however,  the  result  is 
exactly  the  opposite  to  what  we  should  naturally 
have  imagined.  Eton  has  produced  only  three 
poets  of  any  note,  Waller,  Gray,  and  Shelley,1  for 
Lord  Littleton  and  West  are  beings  of  an  inferior 
order,  while  she  has  made  up  for  the  deficiency 
in  poetical  talent  by  rearing  no  fewer  statesmen 
of  celebrity  than  Harley,  Earl  of  Oxford,  Lord 
Bolingbroke,  Sir  Robert  Walpole,  the  great  Lord 
Chatham,  Fox,  Canning,  the  Duke  of  Wellington, 
and  the  late  Marquis  Wellesley.  On  the  other 
hand,  Westminster  has  produced  not  a  single  illus- 
trious statesman,  while  we  find  that  more  than 
half  of  our  greatest  poets  were  educated  within 
her  classical  walls. 

In  the  course  of  some  acquaintance  with  works 
of  biography,  the  author  has  noted  down,  as  they 
occurred  to  him,  the  names  of  different  remark- 
able persons  who  have  been  educated  at  West- 
minster School.  The  list  must  necessarily  be  an 
imperfect  one,  but,  such  as  it  is,  it  may  not  be 
unacceptable  to  those  who  take  an  interest  in  this 
celebrated  institution.  The  date  of  birth  is  given 

1  When  the  above  was  written,  the  author  had  forgotten  the 
name  of  Alfred  Tennyson,  who  was  his  schoolfellow  at  Eton, 
and  to  whose  genius  he  is  glad  to  have  this  opportunity  of  paying 
homage. 


296  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

against  the  name  of  each,  as  it  will  enable  us  to 
form  a  tolerable  conjecture  as  to  who  were  con- 
temporaries. Those  from  Adam  Littleton,  the 
celebrated  scholar,  to  the  Duke  of  Newcastle, 
inclusive,  were  brought  up  under  the  celebrated 
Doctor  Busby,  who  was  nearly  fifty-five  years  head- 
master of  the  school,  and  at  one  time  boasted 
that  of  the  bench  of  bishops  as  many  as  sixteen 
had  been  educated  by  him. 

1574.     Ben  Jonson. 

1602.     William  Heminge,  the  dramatic  writer  and  fellow 
actor  of  Shakespeare. 

1605.  Thomas  Randolf,  the  dramatic  poet. 

1606.  Richard  Busby,  afterward  head-master. 

1611.  William  Cartwright,  the  poet  and  divine. 

1612.  Sir    Harry   Vane,   the   republican    statesman,    be- 

headed in  1662. 
1612.     Sir  Arthur  Haselrigge,  the   republican   statesman 

and  regicide. 

1618.     Abraham  Cowley,  the  poet. 
1627.     Adam  Littleton,  the  celebrated  scholar. 

1630.  The  Marquis  of  Halifax,  the  statesman  and  author. 

1631.  John  Dryden,  the  poet. 

1632.  John  Locke,  the  philosopher. 

1632.  Sir  Christopher  Wren,  the  great  architect. 

1633.  Robert  South,  the  divine. 

1648.  Dr.  Humphrey  Prideaux,  the  historian  and  divine. 

1648.  Elkanah  Settle,  the  poet. 

1652.  Nathaniel  Lee,  the  dramatic  poet. 

1660.  Kennet,  Bishop  of  Peterborough,  the  historian. 

1662.  Francis  Atterbury,  Bishop  of  Rochester. 

1663.  George  Smaldridge,  the  scholar  and  divine. 

1664.  Matthew  Prior,  the  poet  and  statesman. 


WESTMINSTER.  297 

1665.  Richard  Duke,  the  poet. 

1668.  Sir  Richard  Blackmore,  the  poet  and  physician. 

1668.  Edmund  Smith,  the  poet. 

1673.  Nicholas  Rowe,  the  dramatic  poet. 

1675.  Sir  John  Friend,  the  philosopher  and  physician. 

1 68 1.  Barton  Booth,  the  celebrated  actor. 

1693.  Thomas  Pelham,   Duke  of  Newcastle,  minister  to 

George  the  Second. 

1 700.  John  Dyer,  the  poet. 

1703.  Bishop  Newton,    author  of   the   "Dissertation   on 

the  Prophecies." 

1706.  Isaac  Hawkins  Browne,  the  poet. 

1721.  Thomas  Sheridan,  the  author  and  actor. 

1730.  Thomas  King,  the  comedian. 

1731.  William  Cowper,  the  poet. 

1731.  Charles  Churchill,  the  poet. 

1732.  Warren  Hastings. 

1732.  Richard  Cumberland,  the  dramatic  writer. 

1733.  Robert  Lloyd,  the  poet. 

I733-  George  Colman,  the  dramatic  writer  and  scholar. 

1774.  Robert  Southey,  the  poet,  historian,  and  biographer. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

OLD    PALACE    OF    WESTMINSTER. 

Its  Early  Regal  Builders  and  Tenants  —  Edward  the  Second 
and  Gaveston  —  Death  Scene  of  Henry  the  Fourth  —  Henry 
the  Eighth  the  Last  Resident  —  Court  of  Requests  —  Painted 
Chamber  —  Gunpowder  Plot  —  St.  Stephen's  Chapel — Old 
and  New  Palace  Yard. 

THE  earliest  notice  which  we  discover  of  a 
royal  residence  at  Westminster  is  in  the  reign  of 
Canute,  who  is  mentioned  as  holding  his  court 
here  in  1035  ;  and  it  seems  to  have  been  from  one 
of  the  windows  of  this  palace  that  the  perfidious 
Saxon  traitor,  Duke  Edric,  was  thrown,  by  order 
of  Canute,  into  the  Thames.  The  palace  of  the 
Dane  was  burnt  down  a  few  years  afterward,  in 
the  reign  of  Edward  the  Confessor,  who,  on  its 
site,  erected  a  far  more  magnificent  structure. 
Every  trace  of  Canute's  palace  has  ceased  to 
exist,  but  the  foundations  and  a  considerable  part 
of  the  Confessor's  structure  still  remain ;  and,  but 
for  the  fatal  fire  which  took  place  on  the  i6th  of 
October,  1834,  we  should  still  be  able  to  wander 
into  the  Court  of  Requests  and  the  Painted  Cham- 
ber, —  the  former,  it  is  said,  the  banqueting-room, 

298 


OLD  PALACE  OF  WESTMINSTER.  299 

and  the  latter  the  sleeping-apartment  of  the  "  meek 
Confessor,"  —  which,  with  the  exception  of  inter- 
nal adornment,  remained  in  the  same  state  in 
which  they  existed  in  the  middle  of  the  eleventh 
century.  It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  remark  that 
Old  Palace  Yard  points  out  where  stood  the 
palace  of  the  Confessor,  and  New  Palace  Yard, 
the  site  of  the  additions  made  by  the  early  Nor- 
man kings.  From  the  windows  of  the  former, 
the  Confessor  could  watch  the  progress  made  by 
the  glorious  abbey  toward  completion,  —  the  prin- 
cipal object  of  his  life.  "  He  pressed  on  the 
work,"  says  Sulcardus,  "very  earnestly,  having  ap- 
propriated to  it  a  tenth  of  his  entire  substance 
in  gold,  silver,  cattle,  and  all  other  possessions." 

In  1085  we  find  William  the  Conqueror  holding 
his  court  at  Whitsuntide,  in  the  palace  of  West- 
minster, on  which  occasion  he  received  the  hom- 
age of  his  subjects,  and  knighted  his  youngest  son, 
afterward  Henry  the  First.  William  Rufus  held 
his  court  here  in  1099,  and  the  following  year 
kept  the  festival  of  Whitsuntide  within  the  mag- 
nificent hall  which  had  recently  risen  under  his 
auspices.  During  the  reign  of  Henry  the  First, 
the  Confessor's  palace  appears  to  have  been  the 
constant  residence  of  that  monarch,  and  of  his 
pious  and  gentle  consort,  Matilda,  daughter  of 
Malcolm  the  Third,  King  of  Scotland,  and  niece 
to  Edward  Atheling.  During  Lent,  the  good 
queen  was  constantly  to  be  seen  issuing  from 


300  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

the  palace,  —  barefooted  and  clothed  in  a  garment 
of  horsehair,  —  crossing  the  Old  Palace  Yard  to 
the  "Old  Chapter  House,"  where  she  performed 
her  devotions  and  washed  the  feet  of  the  poor. 
She  died  in  Westminster  Palace,  on  the  ist  of 
May,  1 1 1 8,  and  was  buried  within  the  walls  of  the 
Chapter  House,  which  had  so  often  been  witness 
to  her  charities  and  her  piety. 

King  Stephen  and  Henry  the  Second  were  both 
crowned  at  Westminster,  and  both,  at  different 
times,  held  their  courts  in  the  Old  Palace.  Here 
Richard  Cceur  de  Lion  held  a  magnificent  court 
on  the  occasion  of  his  coronation,  in  September, 
1 1 89,  and  here  it  was,  when  seated  at  dinner  in 
the  "  Little  Hall,"  at  Westminster,  that  the  news 
was  brought  to  him  that  King  Philip,  of  France, 
had  invaded  his  Norman  duchy,  and  besieged  Ver- 
noil.  Starting  from  table  in  a  violent  rage,  he 
swore  passionately  that  he  would  never  "turn 
away  his  face "  till  he  had  met  the  French  king 
and  given  him  battle,  and  immediately  set  off  for 
Portsmouth,  where  he  embarked  for  Normandy. 
On  the  return  of  the  lion-hearted  king  to  his  do- 
minions, in  1197,  having  dispossessed  his  brother 
John  of  the  throne,  we  find  him  again  crowned 
at  Westminster.  After  the  death  of  his  brother, 
King  John  was  crowned  in  the  abbey,  with  the 
usual  formalities,  and  during  his  reign  we  find  him 
more  than  once  keeping  Christmas  at  Westminster. 

Henry  the  Third,  the  successor  of  King  John, 


OLD  PALACE  OF  WESTMINSTER.  301 

made  great  additions  to  the  palace  of  the  Con- 
fessor. During  his  reign,  we  find  numerous  no- 
tices of  his  having  kept  his  court  and  held  diverse 
festivals  at  Westminster.  Here  especially,  in  1235, 
took  place  the  interesting  betrothment  of  Isabella, 
the  king's  sister,  to  the  Emperor  Frederic.  "  In 
February,  1235,"  writes  Matthew  Paris,  "two  am- 
bassadors from  the  emperor  arrived  at  Westmin- 
ster, to  demand  in  marriage  for  their  master  the 
Princess  Isabella,  the  king's  sister.  The  king  sum- 
moned a  council  of  the  bishops  and  great  men  of 
the  kingdom,  to  consider  the  proposals  of  the 
emperor ;  to  which,  after  three  days'  consulta- 
tion, a  unanimous  consent  was  given.  The  am- 
bassadors then  entreated  that  they  might  be 
permitted  to  see  the  princess.  The  king  sent 
confidential  messengers  for  his  sister  to  the 
Tower  of  London,  where  she  was  kept  in  vigi- 
lant custody ;  and  they  most  respectfully  brought 
the  damsel  to  Westminster  into  the  presence  of 
her  brother.  She  was  in  the  twenty-first  year 
of  her  age,  exceedingly  beautiful,  in  the  flower  of 
youthful  virginity,  becomingly  adorned  with  royal 
vestments  and  accomplishments,  and  thus  she  was 
introduced  to  the  imperial  envoys.  They,  when 
they  had  for  awhile  delighted  themselves  with 
beholding  the  virgin,  and  judged  her  to  be  in  all 
things  worthy  of  the  imperial  bed,  confirmed  by 
oath  the  emperor's  proposal  of  matrimony,  present- 
ing to  her,  on  the  part  of  their  master,  the  wedding- 


302  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

ring.  And  when  they  had  placed  it  on  her  finger, 
they  declared  her  to  be  Empress  of  the  Roman 
empire,  exclaiming  altogether,  '  Vivat  Imperatrix, 
vivat  /  "  In  due  time,  the  emperor  despatched 
the  Duke  of  Louvaine  and  the  Archbishop  of 
Cologne,  with  a  suitable  train,  to  escort  the  fair 
bride  to  Germany.  They  were  received  by  King 
Henry  with  all  due  honours,  and,  previous  to 
their  departure  with  Isabella,  we  find  the  king 
entertaining  them,  on  the  6th  of  May,  with  great 
magnificence,  at  Westminster. 

The  following  year,  Henry  married  Eleanor, 
daughter  of  Raymond,  Earl  of  Provence,  when 
the  rejoicings,  consequent  on  the  marriage  and 
subsequent  coronation  of  the  new  queen,  seem  to 
have  surpassed  in  splendour  anything  which  had 
previously  been  witnessed  in  England.  At  the 
palace  of  Westminster,  Queen  Eleanor  was  deliv- 
ered, on  the  i6th  of  June,  1239,  of  her  first  son, 
afterward  King  Edward  the  First,  styled  from  the 
place  of  his  birth,  Edward  of  Westminster.  Here, 
in  1260,  we  find  King  Henry  entertaining  Alex- 
ander, King  of  Scotland,  and  here  apparently  he 
died.  Among  other  curious  entries  of  expenditure 
in  this  reign,  and  which  show  the  simplicity  of  the 
times,  we  find,  in  April,  1222,  3^.  8d.  paid  to  pur- 
chase rushes  for  the  king's  "  two  chambers  at 
Westminster ; "  and  again  in  December  following, 
3.?.  ^d.  for  rushes  for  the  king's  great  chamber. 

Edward  the  First,  like  his  predecessors,  made 


OLD  PALACE  OF  WESTMINSTER.  303 

Westminster  his  residence.  Here  he  entertained 
Llewellyn,  Prince  of  Wales,  during  the  Christmas 
of  1277;  and  here,  the  following  year,  we  find 
Alexander  the  Third,  King  of  Scotland,  paying 
homage  to  him  for  the  lands  which  he  held  under 
the  English  Crown.  In  1294,  John  Baliol,  King 
of  Scotland,  was  his  guest  at  Westminster,  and 
shortly  afterward  we  find  the  king  "  royally  enter- 
taining in  his  palace  of  Westminster  the  four  noble 
envoys  of  the  King  of  Aragon,"  with  whom  he 
was  carrying  on  a  secret  negotiation  for  assistance 
in  the  war  which  he  proposed  to  wage  against  the 
French  king. 

At  this  early  period  of  our  history  it  was  custom- 
ary for  the  Kings  of  England  to  keep  their  treasury 
within  the  precincts  of  the  Abbey  of  Westmin- 
ster. In  1303,  during  the  absence  of  Edward  the 
First  in  Scotland,  the  door  of  the  apartment  in 
which  the  treasure  was  kept  was  found  to  have  been 
forcibly  entered,  the  chests  and  coffers  were  broken 
open,  and  treasure  to  the  amount,  it  was  com- 
puted, of  a  hundred  thousand  pounds  was  found  to 
have  been  abstracted.  Suspicion  at  first  fell  on 
the  ecclesiastic  establishment,  and  the  abbot,  forty- 
eight  monks,  and  thirty-two  other  persons  con- 
nected with  the  abbey,  were  arrested  by  order 
of  the  king,  and  sent  to  the  Tower.  They  were 
subsequently  tried  by  the  king's  justices  and  ac- 
quitted, nor  does  it  appear  that  the  real  perpretra- 
tors  of  the  daring  robbery  were  ever  discovered. 


304  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

On  the  accession  of  Edward  the  Second,  the  old 
palace  of  Westminster,  under  the  auspices  of  the 
king's  celebrated  favourite,  Piers  Gaveston,  became 
the  perpetual  scene  of  feasting,  dancing,  and  all 
kinds  of  riotous  merriment.  "  Within  a  while," 
says  Holinshed,  "  the  young  king  gave  himself  up 
to  wantonness,  passing  his  time  in  voluptuous 
pleasure  and  riotous  excess  ;  and  Piers,  as  though 
he  had  sworn  to  make  the  king  forget  himself  and 
the  state  to  which  he  was  called,  furnished  his  court 
with  companions  of  jesters,  ruffians,  flattering  para- 
sites, musicians,  and  other  vile  and  naughty  ribalds, 
that  the  king  might  spend  both  days  and  nights  in 
jesting,  playing,  banqueting,  and  such  other  filthy 
and  dishonourable  exercises." 

The  following  extracts  from  the  account-book  of 
one  of  the  king's  servants  throw  a  curious  light  on 
the  tastes  and  amusements  of  the  young  monarch  : 

Paid  to  the  king  himself,  to  play  at  cross  and  pile  [toss- 
ing up],  by  the  hands  of  Richard  de  Merewith,  Receiver 
of  the  Treasury  .......  I2</. 

Paid  to  Henry,  the  king's  barber,  for  money  which 
he  lent  to  the  king  to  play  at  cross  and  pile  .  .  .  5J. 

Paid  to  Piers  Barrad,  usher  of  the  king's  chamber, 
for  money  which  he  lent  to  the  king,  and  which  he  lost 
at  cross  and  pile  to  M.  Robt.  Wattewylle  .  .  .  8</. 

Paid  to  James  de  St.  Alban's,  the  king's  painter,  who 
danced  on  a  table  before  the  king  and  made  him  laugh 
heartily,  being  a  gift  by  the  king's  own  hands,  in  aid  of 
him,  his  wife,  and  children  .....  $os- 

Paid  at  the  lodge  at  Walmer,  when  the  king  was 


OLD  PALACE  OF  WESTMINSTER.  305 

stag-hunting  there,  to  Morris  Ken,  of  the  kitchen, 
because  he  rode  before  the  king  and  often  fell  from 
his  horse,  at  which  the  king  laughed  heartily ;  a  gift  by 
command  .........  2os. 

In  the  days  when  the  young  king  and  his  gay 
favourite  were  revelling  and  rioting  in  the  costly 
apartments  of  Westminster,  how  little  could  they 
have  imagined  that  the  time  was  not  far  distant 
when  the  one  was  to  suffer  an  excruciating  death 
under  the  hands  of  an  assassin,  and  the  other,  to 
die  by  the  axe  of  the  executioner. 

"  Weave  the  warp,  and  weave  the  woof, 

The  winding-sheet  of  Edward's  race, 
Give  ample  room  and  verge  enough, 
The  characters  of  hell  to  trace. 

"  Mark  the  year,  and  mark  the  night, 
When  Severn  shall  reecho  with  affright 
The  shrieks  of  death,  through  Berkeley's 

roof  that  ring, 
Shrieks  of  an  agonising  king." 

The  extravagances  and  debaucheries  of  the  young 
king  were  checked  for  a  time  by  his  marriage  with 
the  beautiful  adulteress,  Isabella,  daughter  of  Philip 
le  Bel,  King  of  France,  — 

"  She-wolf  of  France,  with  unrelenting  fangs, 

That  tear'st  the  bowels  of  thy  mangled  mate, 
From  thee  be  born,  who  o'er  thy  country  hangs 
The  scourge  of  Heaven  !  "  ' 

1  King  Edward  the  Third,  the  victor  of  Cressy. 


306  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

The  influence,  however,  of  the  young  queen  over 
her  husband  was  but  of  short  duration,  and  he 
soon  relapsed  into  his  former  reckless  career  of 
frolic  and  vice. 

Piers  Gaveston,  to  whose  baneful  influence  over 
his  royal  master  have  been  attributed  all  the  vices 
and  the  consequent  misfortunes  of  the  young  king, 
was  by  birth  a  Gascon.  He  was  distinguished  by 
the  beauty  of  his  person  and  the  keenness  of  his 
wit,  and,  as  a  reward  for  the  gallant  services  which 
he  had  rendered  to  Edward  the  First  in  the  field, 
had  been  appointed  by  that  warlike  monarch  to  a 
considerable  post  in  the  household  of  the  Prince  of 
Wales.  By  his  accomplishments  and  fascinating 
manners,  he  soon  obtained  so  powerful  an  ascen- 
dency over  the  mind  of  young  Edward,  that  the 
old  king,  dreading  the  consequences,  banished  him 
the  kingdom,  and,  before  he  died,  made  his  son 
promise  that  he  would  never  recall  him.  No 
sooner,  however,  did  he  find  himself  on  the  throne, 
than  he  sent  for  his  favourite,  created  him  Earl  of 
Cornwall,  a  title  which  had  hitherto  only  been  con- 
ferred on  a  prince  of  the  blood  ;  married  him  to 
his  own  niece,  sister  of  the  Earl  of  Gloucester ; 
loaded  him  with  wealth  ;  allowed  him  to  wear  the 
crown  jewels,  and  moreover,  at  his  coronation  in 
Westminster  Abbey,  permitted  him  to  walk  in  the 
procession  next  before  him,  with  the  crown. 

Disgusted  at  these  honours  being  conferred  on  a 
foreign  adventurer,  and  on  one  inferior  in  birth  to 


OLD  PALACE  OF  WESTMINSTER.  307 

themselves ;  still  more  disgusted  at  Gaveston  mak- 
ing them  the  subjects  of  his  wit  and  sarcasms,  a 
warfare  in  which  they  had  no  chance  with  him,  the 
haughty  barons  of  England,  with  Thomas,  Earl  of 
Lancaster,  first  prince  of  the  blood,  at  their  head, 
assembled  together  in  the  refectory-hall  of  the 
monks  of  Westminster,  and  bound  themselves  by 
an  oath  to  drive  the  obnoxious  favourite  out  of  the 
kingdom.  A  Parliament  being  shortly  afterward 
summoned  to  meet  at  Westminster,  the  confeder- 
ated barons  appeared  there  with  armed  retinues, 
and,  among  other  terms  which  they  imposed  on  the 
young  king,  exacted  from  him  a  solemn  promise 
that  his  favourite  should  immediately  quit  the  king- 
dom ;  while  at  the  same  time  they  obtained  an  oath 
from  Gaveston  that  he  would  never  return.  He 
accordingly  departed,  the  king  accompanying  him 
to  Bristol,  from  which  port  he  set  sail,  but,  to  the 
surprise  and  indignation  of  the  barons,  they  soon 
learned  that  he  had  proceeded  no  farther  than  Ire- 
land, of  which  country  the  king  had  appointed  him 
lord  lieutenant,  and  where  he  shortly  afterward 
distinguished  himself  by  the  vigour  with  which  he 
suppressed  a  formidable  rebellion. 

In  the  meantime,  the  barons  having  laid  down 
their  arms,  Edward,  rendered  miserable  by  the 
absence  of  his  favourite,  obtained  from  the  Pope 
a  dispensation  from  the  oath  which  the  barons  had 
exacted  from  him,  and,  recalling  Gaveston  from 
Ireland,  flew  to  Chester  to  embrace  him  on  his 


308  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

landing.  For  a  time  the  barons  submitted  quietly 
to  the  return  of  the  detested  minion  ;  but  when, 
with  returning  prosperity,  Edward  and  his  favour- 
ite commenced  anew  their  execrable  career  of  dis- 
sipation and  misrule,  the  barons  again  assembled 
in  council,  and  appeared  once  more  in  arms  before 
the  palace  of  Westminster.  Fresh  terms  were 
imposed  on  the  weak  monarch,  one  of  which  was 
that  Gaveston  should  instantly  depart  the  king- 
dom, on  pain  of  being  declared  a  public  enemy. 
Accordingly,  after  embracing  each  other  and  shed- 
ding many  tears,  Edward  tore  himself  from  his 
favourite,  and,  on  the  ist  of  November,  1311,  the 
latter  set  sail  for  Flanders. 

But  Edward  was  inconsolable  in  the  absence  of 
his  minion,  and,  having  found  means  to  keep  up 
a  private  correspondence  with  him,  it  was  agreed 
that  Gaveston  should  land  in  the  remote  district 
of  Cornwall,  and  that  the  king  should  join  him  as 
soon  as  possible  in  the  north  of  England.  Accord- 
ingly, having  previously  kept  the  festival  of  Christ- 
mas at  the  palace  of  Westminster,  Edward,  early 
in  January,  1312,  proceeded  to  York,  where  for 
the  last  time  he  met  his  favourite.  Here  he 
issued  a  royal  mandate  declaring  the  banishment 
of  Gaveston  to  have  been  illegal,  and  announcing 
that  he  had  returned  to  England  in  obedience  to 
his  own  express  commands ;  further,  on  the  24th 
of  the  following  month,  he  formally  restored  him 
to  all  his  former  honours  and  estates.  Exasper- 


OLD  PALACE  OF  WESTMINSTER.  309 

ated  by  these  unlooked-for  events,  the  barons,  on 
pretence  of  repairing  to  a  tournament  in  the  north, 
armed  their  numerous  retainers,  for  the  purpose  of 
reducing  the  king  to  submission,  and  punishing 
his  unworthy  favourite.  On  reaching  York  they 
found  that  Edward  had  removed  to  Newcastle, 
leaving  Gaveston  in  the  almost  impregnable  castle 
of  Scarborough,  to  which  latter  place  they  pro- 
ceeded to  lay  siege.  Amongst  the  barons  the  one 
who  was  the  most  inflamed  with  rage  against  the 
favourite  was  the  celebrated  Guy,  Earl  of  War- 
wick, whom  Gaveston  had  sneered  at  by  the  name 
of  the  "Black  Dog  of  Arderne."  Being  short  of 
provisions,  the  castle  was  soon  compelled  to  capit- 
ulate ;  but  in  all  probability  the  life  of  Gaveston 
would  have  been  spared,  had  not  the  Earl  of 
Warwick  sworn  that  the  "  Black  Dog  of  Arderne 
would  make  him  feel  his  teeth."  He  carried  with 
him  the  unfortunate  favourite  to  his  castle  of  War- 
wick, where,  the  confederated  barons  having  de- 
cided that  he  was  deserving  of  death,  he  was  led 
forth  to  execution  without  form  of  trial,  and,  on 
the  iQth  of  June,  was  beheaded  on  Lowe  Hill, 
near  the  town  of  Warwick. 

On  the  ist  of  February,  1327,  Edward  the 
Third,  then  in  his  fifteenth  year,  was  crowned  in 
Westminster  Abbey,  and  the  same  day  he  was 
knighted  in  the  palace  by  his  cousin  Henry,  Earl 
of  Lancaster,  the  double  ceremony  being  followed 
by  a  magnificent  banquet  in  Westminster  Hall. 


310  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

Ten  years  afterward  we  find  the  young  king 
knighting  and  conferring  the  dukedom  of  Corn- 
wall and  the  earldom  of  Chester  on  his  infant 
son,  Prince  Edward,  afterward  so  celebrated  as 
the  Black  Prince.  The  ceremony,  which  took 
place  in  the  palace  of  Westminster,  was  followed 
by  magnificent  banquetings  and  rejoicings,  the 
king,  at  the  same  time,  creating  six  other  earls. 
Edward  himself  girded  the  sword  to  the  side  of 
his  child,  then  only  six  years  old ;  after  which 
ceremony  the  young  prince,  in  virtue  of  his  be- 
coming possessed  of  the  palatinate  of  Chester, 
conferred  knighthood  on  twenty  persons  of  noble 
family.  It  may  be  mentioned  that  this  was  the 
first  instance  of  the  creation  of  a  duke  in  England. 
In  April,  1341,  a  very  curious  scene  took  place 
in  Westminster  Palace.  John  Stratford,  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury,  having  fallen  under  the  dis- 
pleasure of  Edward  the  Third,  was  summoned 
to  the  exchequer  to  answer  the  charges  brought 
against  him.  Insisting,  however,  on  the  exalted 
rank  which  he  held  in  the  Church,  he  refused 
to  plead  before  any  other  tribunal  but  that  of 
Parliament,  and,  setting  the  king's  authority  at 
defiance,  he  flew  to  the  sanctuary  at  Canterbury, 
where,  "with  the  dreadful  ceremony  of  bell,  book, 
and  candle,  the  bells  ringing  dolefully,  and  the  can- 
dles being  suddenly  extinguished  with  a  stench," 
he  hurled  anathemas  at  his  enemies,  and  on  all 
those  who  should  dare  to  violate  the  sacred  privi- 


OLD  PALACE  OF  WESTMINSTER.  311 

leges  of  the  Church.  At  last,  the  king  having 
summoned  a  Parliament  to  assemble  in  his  palace 
at  Westminster,  the  archbishop  repaired  privately 
to  London,  and  having  prevailed  upon  the  Bishops 
of  London  and  Chester  and  "  a  great  company  of 
clergymen  and  soldiers "  to  accompany  him,  he 
presented  himself,  armed  with  all  the  terrors  of  the 
Church,  at  the  gate  of  the  palace.  Having  for- 
mally demanded  admittance  to  the  chamber  in 
which  the  Parliament  were  assembled,  and,  being 
forbid  to  enter,  in  the  king's  name,  by  Sir  William 
At  wood,  captain  of  the  king's  guard,  the  arch- 
bishop took  the  cross  from  the  hands  of  an  attend- 
ant churchman,  and,  raising  it  aloft,  solemnly 
protested  that  he  would  never  stir  from  the  spot 
till  the  king  admitted  him  to  his  seat  in  Parlia- 
ment, or  explained  the  reason  why  he  was  ex- 
cluded. Some  of  the  bystanders  denouncing  him 
"as  a  traitor  who  had  deceived  the  king  and 
betrayed  the  realm,"  the  archbishop  turned  pas- 
sionately around  to  them.  "  The  curse  of  God," 
he  said,  "and  of  his  blessed  mother,  and  of  St. 
Thomas,  and  mine,  also,  be  upon  the  heads  of 
those  who  inform  the  king  so.  Amen,  Amen ! " 
At  this  time  some  of  the  barons  interfered,  and, 
being  induced  to  use  their  good  offices  with  the 
king,  Edward  consented  that  the  archbishop  should 
be  brought  into  the  Parliament  chamber.  After 
some  discussion,  his  case  was  referred  to  a  tribu- 
nal, consisting  of  four  bishops,  four  earls,  and  four 


312  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

barons.  "  On  the  igth  of  April  following,"  says 
Barnes,  "  being  a  Thursday,  the  king  came  into  St. 
Edward's  Chamber,  commonly  called  the  Painted 
Chamber,  before  whom,  in  sight  of  all  the  Lords 
and  Commons,  the  archbishop  humbled  himself, 
and  required  his  gracious  pardon ;  which,  upon  the 
whole  Parliament's  general  suit  and  entreaty,  his 
Majesty  granted."  Within  a  short  time  we  find 
the  archbishop  entirely  restored  to  the  favour  of 
his  royal  master. 

In  May,  1356,  John,  King  of  France,  who  had 
recently  been  taken  prisoner  by  the  Black  Prince 
at  the  battle  of  Poictiers,  was  entertained  by  Edward 
the  Third  in  Westminster  Palace  with  great  splen- 
dour. Edward,  learning  that  his  gallant  son  might 
shortly  be  expected  in  London  with  his  august 
prisoner,  sent  to  the  lord  mayor  to  prepare  the 
city  pageants,  and  to  receive  the  French  monarch 
with  all  due  honours.  Accordingly  the  triumphal 
procession,  for  such  it  was,  was  joined  at  South- 
wark  by  more  than  a  thousand  of  the  principal 
citizens  on  horseback,  who,  uniting  with  the 
prince's  cavalcade,  passed  over  London  Bridge, 
and  thence,  through  streets  hung  with  tapestry 
and  spanned  by  frequent  arches  which  had  been 
erected  for  the  occasion,  rode  on  to  Westminster 
Palace,  where  Edward  was  anxiously  expecting  the 
arrival  of  his  illustrious  guest.  "  King  John," 
says  Barnes,  "  clothed  in  royal  apparel,  was  mounted 
on  a  cream-coloured  charger,  with  splendid  trap- 


OLD  PALACE  OF  WESTMINSTER.  313 

pings,  in  token  of  sovereignty ;  and,  to  be  more 
remarkable,  the  generous  Prince  of  Wales  rode 
by  his  side  on  a  little  black  hobby,  as  one  that 
industriously  avoided  all  suspicion  of  a  triumph." 
In  the  meantime,  King  Edward  was  seated  in  great 
state  in  Westminster  Hall,  and  the  French  mon- 
arch no  sooner  entered  than  he  descended  from 
his  throne,  and,  after  embracing  him  with  great 
courtesy  and  show  of  affection,  led  him  to  a  mag- 
nificent banquet  which  had  been  prepared  for 
him. 

In  1358  Edward  the  Third  kept  his  Christmas 
with  great  splendour  at  Westminster,  and  on  this 
occasion  it  is  not  a  little  curious  to  find  his  two 
illustrious  captives,  John,  King  of  France,  and 
David,  King  of  Scotland,  both  seated  at  table  with 
him  at  the  same  time.  The  English  and  French 
monarchs  seem  to  have  lived  on  the  most  friendly 
terms ;  the  latter,  we  are  told,  during  the  time  he 
was  lodged  in  the  Savoy  Palace,  "going  as  often 
as  he  pleased  privately  by  water  to  visit  King 
Edward  at  his  palace  of  Westminster." 

Were  it  from  no  other  circumstance,  the  old 
palace  of  Westminster  would  be  interesting  as  the 
spot  where  Edward  the  Black  Prince  breathed 
his  last.  He  expired  on  the  8th  of  June,  1376, 
in  the  "Great  Chamber,"  and  was  buried  at 
Canterbury. 

"  Is  the  sable  warrior  fled  ? 
Thy  son  is  gone :  he  rests  among  the  dead." 


314  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

The  king  survived  the  melancholy  event  only 
twelve  months.  He  died  on  the  2ist  of  June, 
1377,  at  the  palace  of  Sheen,  or  Richmond,  aban- 
doned in  his  last  moments  by  his  beautiful  mistress, 
Alice  Piers,  and  "the  other  knights  and  esquires 
who  had  served  him,  allured  more  by  his  gifts 
than  his  love." 

"  Mighty  victor,  mighty  lord, 

Low  on  his  funeral  couch  he  lies ! 
No  pitying  heart,  no  eye,  afford 
A  tear  to  grace  his  obsequies !  " 

The  unfortunate  Richard  the  Second  constantly 
resided  at  Westminster,  and  it  was  in  the  chapel 
of  the  palace,  according  to  Froissart,  that  he 
was  married,  on  the  I4th  of  January,  1382,  to  the 
Princess  Anne,  of  Bohemia,  sister  of  the  Emperor 
Winceslaus.  The  ceremony  was  solemnised  with 
extraordinary  rejoicings.  "  At  her  coming  to  the 
city  of  London,"  says  Holinshed,  "she  was  met 
on  Blackheath  by  the  mayor  and  citizens  of  Lon- 
don in  most  honourable  wise,  and  so  with  great 
triumph  conveyed  to  Westminster,  where  all  the 
nobility  of  the  realm  being  assembled,  she  was 
joined  in  marriage  to  the  king,  and  shortly  after 
crowned  by  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  with  all 
the  glory  and  honour  that  might  be  devised. 
There  were  also  holden,  for  the  more  honour  of 
the  said  marriage,  solemn  jousts  for  certain  days 
together,  in  which,  as  well  the  Englishmen  as  the 


OLD  PALACE  OF  WESTMINSTER.  315 

new  queen's  countrymen,  showed  proof  of  their 
manhood  and  valiancy,  whereby  praise  and  com- 
mendation of  knightly  prowess  was  achieved,  not 
without  damage  of  both  parties." 

It  was  in  the  palace  of  Westminster  that  the 
famous  scene  occurred,  on  the  3d  of  May,  1389, 
when  Richard,  then  in  his  twenty-second  year, 
suddenly  declared,  before  the  assembled  barons, 
his  determination  to  be  no  longer  a  puppet  in  the 
hands  of  his  uncle,  the  Duke  of  Gloucester,  but 
to  govern  by  his  own  authority  his  kingdom  and 
household.  Turning  to  the  duke,  he  inquired  of 
him  his  age.  "Your  Highness,"  replied  Glouces- 
ter, "is  in  your  twenty-second  year."  "Then," 
rejoined  the  young  king,  "  I  am  of  years  sufficient 
to  govern  my  own  house  and  family,  and  also  my 
kingdom.  Every  one  at  the  age  of  twenty-one  is 
held  capable  of  managing  his  own  affairs  ;  and 
wherefore  should  I  be  deprived  of  a  privilege  that 
may  be  claimed  by  the  meanest  subject  of  my 
realm  ?  I  have,  as  ye  know,  been  long  ruled  by 
tutors,  and  restrained  from  doing  anything  of  the 
least  importance  without  their  permission,  but  I 
am  determined  that  they  shall  meddle  no  further 
with  matters  pertaining  to  my  government,  and, 
after  the  manner  of  an  heir  come  to  lawful  age,  I 
will  call  to  my  council  those  whom  I  think  proper, 
and  dismiss  from  it  others  at  my  own  pleasure." 
He  then  removed  the  Duke  of  Gloucester  and  the 
Earl  of  Warwick  from  the  council,  displaced  the 


316  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

Bishop  of  Hereford  from  the  office  of  treasurer, 
the  Earl  of  Arundel  from  that  of  lord  admiral,  and 
demanding  the  great  seal  from  the  chancellor, 
Thomas  Arundel,  Archbishop  of  York,  he  placed 
it  in  his  bosom,  and  quitted  the  apartment. 

On  the  /th  of  June,  1394,  Richard  lost  his 
young  queen,  Anne  of  Bohemia.  She  died  at  the 
palace  of  Sheen,  and  so  deeply  was  Richard  affected 
by  her  loss  that  he  cursed  the  spot,  and  ordered 
the  apartments  which  she  had  been  accustomed  to 
inhabit  to  be  rased  to  the  ground.  The  grief, 
however,  of  the  royal  widower  seems  to  have  been 
as  short-lived  as  it  was  violent,  for  sixteen  months 
afterward,  on  the  3ist  of  October,  1396,  he  mar- 
ried, at  Calais,  Isabella,  daughter  of  Charles  the 
Sixth,  King  of  France,  then  only  in  her  eighth 
year,  and  immediately  conducted  her  to  Westmin- 
ster, where  her  arrival  was  celebrated  with  ex- 
traordinary rejoicings. 

On  the  deposition  of  the  unfortunate  Richard, 
and  the  accession  of  Henry,  Duke  of  Lancaster, 
as  Henry  the  Fourth,  the  usurper,  on  the  i2th 
of  October,  1399,  attended  by  a  cavalcade  of  six 
thousand  horse,  proceeded  in  great  state  from  the 
Tower  to  Westminster,  where  he  formally  took 
possession  of  the  palace  of  the  Confessor.  The 
streets  through  which  he  passed  were  hung  with 
tapestry,  and  the  conduits  flowed  with  red  and 
white  wine,  and  especially  the  one  in  the  court- 
yard of  the  palace,  where  it  poured  from  vari- 


OLD  PALACE  OF  WESTMINSTER.  317 

ous  mouths.    Henry  himself,  magnificently  attired, 
was  the  observed  of  all  observers. 

"...  great  Bolingbroke 
Mounted  upon  a  hot  and  fiery  steed, 
Which  his  aspiring  rider  seemed  to  know, 
With  slow,  but  stately  pace,  kept  on  his  course, 
While  all  tongues  cried  —  God  save  thee,  Bolingbroke ! 
You  would  have  thought  the  very  windows  spake, 
So  many  greedy  looks  of  young  and  old 
Through  casements  darted  their  desiring  eyes 
Upon  his  visage ;  and  that  all  the  walls, 
With  painted  imagery,  had  said  at  once,  — 
Jesu  preserve  thee  !     welcome,  Bolingbroke  ! 
Whilst  he,  from  one  side  to  the  other  turning, 
Bareheaded,  lower  than  his  proud  steed's  neck, 
Bespake  them  thus,  — '  I  thank  you,  countrymen  : ' 
And  thus  still  doing,  thus  he  passed  along." 

—  King  Richard  //.,  Act  2. 

When  age  had  dimmed  the  eye  and  disease  had 
enfeebled  the  frame  of  the  once  haughty  and  mag- 
nificent Bolingbroke,  and  when  the  wild  and  dissi- 
pated career  of  his  son,  the  Prince  of  Wales,  after- 
ward Henry  the  Fifth,  superadded  anguish  of  mind 
to  the  tortures  of  the  body,  it  was  in  the  Presence 
Chamber  at  Westminster  that  the  repentant  son 
sought  and  obtained  the  forgiveness  and  blessing 
of  his  dying  father.  The  enemies  of  the  prince, 
it  seems,  had  not  only  poisoned  the  king's  mind 
against  his  son,  by  the  most  exaggerated  accounts 
of  his  riotous  excesses,  but  had  more  than  insin- 
uated that  the  prince  entertained  the  design  of 


318  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

deposing  his  father,  and  that  the  crowds  which 
the  former  drew  around  him,  "under  a  show  of 
sports  and  pastimes,"  resulted  from  the  darkest 
designs.  For  a  considerable  time  —  notwithstand- 
ing the  increasing  coldness  of  the  king's  manner, 
and  their  being  consequently  almost  entirely 
estranged  from  each  other  —  the  prince  appears 
to  have  remained  in  ignorance  of  the  machina- 
tions of  his  enemies.  It  was  not  till  the  astound- 
ing intelligence  was  communicated  to  him  that  he 
had  been  superseded  as  president  of  the  council 
by  his  younger  brother,  John,  that  the  truth 
flashed  upon  him,  and,  with  the  natural  openness 
and  generosity  of  his  disposition,  he  determined 
on  coming  to  an  understanding,  and,  if  possible, 
effecting  a  reconciliation  with  his  father. 

The  means  which  he  took  to  effect  this  object 
are  curiously  characteristic  of  the  manners  of  the 
period.  The  king  was  confined  to  his  sick-cham- 
ber at  Westminster,  when  the  prince,  attended  by 
a  large  body  of  his  personal  friends  and  retainers, 
made  his  appearance  at  the  entrance  of  Westmin- 
ster Hall.  Giving  a  strict  injunction  to  his  fol- 
lowers to  proceed  no  farther  than  the  fireplace 
beneath  the  present  lanthorn  in  the  centre  of  the 
hall,  he  proceeded,  almost  alone,  into  the  interior 
of  the  palace,  and  sent,  with  all  humility,  to  re- 
quest an  audience  with  his  father.  The  prince's 
dress  has  been  minutely  described  by  the  old 
chroniclers.  He  was  habited  in  "a  rich  satin 


OLD  PALACE  OF  WESTMINSTER.  319 

suit  of  clothes,  which  he  caused  to  be  made  full 
of  eyelet-holes  of  black  silk,  the  needle  hanging 
at  every  hole,  and  on  his  arm  he  wore  a  hound's 
collar  set  full  of  S.S.  of  gold,  with  tyrets  of  the 
same  metal." 

In  the  selection  of  this  fantastical  costume, 
there  was  doubtless  in  every  ornament,  and  even 
in  its  general  character  of  slovenliness,  a  significa- 
tion and  a  typical  language,  of  which  it  is  now 
difficult  to  discover  the  key.  The  dog-collar  was 
probably  intended  as  an  emblem  of  fidelity,  and  it 
has  been  ingeniously  pointed  out  that  "  the  gown 
with  needles  hanging  at  the  oilet-holes "  was 
the  academical  dress  worn  on  extraordinary  occa- 
sions by  the  scholars  of  Queen's  College,  Oxford, 
—  where  Prince  Henry  had  been  a  student,  —  in 
honour  of  their  founder,  Robert  Eglesfield,  chap- 
lain to  Queen  Philippa,  consort  of  Edward  the 
Third.  The  prince,  therefore,  probably  intended 
to  imply  that  he  was  still  in  a  state  of  tutelage. 

At  the  moment  when  the  prince  demanded  an 
interview  with  his  father,  the  king  was  lying  "gree- 
vouslie  diseased,"  and  that  powerful  monarch  — 
who  had  waded  through  bloodshed  to  a  throne, 
who  had  been  the  personal  antagonist  of  Harry 
Hotspur,  and  who,  with  his  own  hand,  had  slain 
thirty-six  persons  on  the  memorable  field  of 
Shrewsbury — shrunk  with  a  nervous  abhorrence, 
the  effect  of  disease,  from  an  interview  with  his 
-own  son.  Henry,  however,  at  last  consented  to 


320  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

an  interview,  "  in  the  presence  of  three  or  four 
persons,  in  whom  he  had  much  confidence,"  and 
having  been  borne  from  his  own  apartment  to  the 
Presence  Chamber  in  an  easy  chair,  demanded, 
with  a  severe  countenance,  of  his  son  his  object 
in  seeking  an  interview.  The  future  victor  of 
Agincourt  fell  reverently  on  his  knees,  and,  insist- 
ing passionately  on  his  innocence  of  any  design 
against  his  father's  life  or  government,  drew  his 
dagger,  and,  presenting  it  to  the  king,  implored 
him  to  deprive  him  at  once  of  life,  if  he  had  the 
least  suspicion  of  his  undutifulness.  "  I  have  this 
day,"  he  said,  still  continuing  kneeling,  "made 
myself  ready  by  confession  and  receiving  of  the 
sacrament ;  and  I  beseech  you,  most  redoubted 
lord,  and  dear  father,  for  the  honour  of  God,  to 
ease  your  heart  of  all  suspicion  as  you  have  of 
me,  and  to  despatch  me  here  before  your  knees, 
with  this  same  dagger ;  and  in  thus  ridding  me  of 
life,  and  yourself  from  all  suspicion,  here,  in  the 
presence  of  these  lords,  and  before  God  at  the  day 
of  the  general  judgment,  I  faithfully  protest  clearly 
to  forgive  you."  Deeply  affected  by  the  passion- 
ate sincerity  of  the  prince's  manner,  the  sick 
monarch  threw  his  arms  around  his  son's  neck, 
and,  with  many  tears,  assured  him  that  he  would 
never  again  give  credit  to  the  insinuations  of  his 
maligners. 

There  occurred  one  more  memorable  interview 
at  Westminster  Palace  between  the  dying  monarch 


OLD  PALACE  OF  WESTMINSTER.  321 

and  his  gallant  son,  which  has  been  immortalised 
by  Shakespeare  in  his  "  Second  Part  of  King  Henry 
IV."  Who,  indeed,  is  there,  who  has  not  by  heart 
the  magnificent  poetical  passage,  where  the  expiring 
monarch,  awakening  from  his  lethargy,  discovers 
that  the  crown,  — 

"  O  polished  perturbation  !  golden  care ! 
That  keep'st  the  ports  of  slumber  open  wide, 
To  many  a  watchful  night,"  — 

had  been  stolen  from  his  pillow,  and,  moreover, 
that  the  purloiner,  the  "thief  o'  the  night,"  was 
his  own  beloved  son  and  expectant  heir  ? 

"  King  Henry.     Where  is  the  crown  ?  who  took  it  from  my 
pillow  ? 

Warwick.     When  we  withdrew,  my  liege,  we  left  it  here. 

King  Henry.     The  prince  hath  taken  it  hence :  —  go,  seek 

him  out, 

Is  he  so  hasty,  that  he  doth  suppose 
My  sleep  my  death  ? 

Reenter  Prince  Henry. 

Lo,  where  he  comes,  —  come  hither  to  me,  Harry, 
Depart  the  chamber,  leave  us  here  alone. 

Prince  Henry.     I  never  thought  to  hear  you  speak  again. 

King  Henry.     Thy  wish  was  father,  Harry,  to  that  thought : 
I  stay  too  long  by  thee,  I  weary  thee. 
Dost  thou  so  hunger  for  my  empty  chair, 
That  thou  wilt  needs  invest  thee  with  mine  honours, 
Before  thy  hour  be  ripe  ?     O  foolish  youth  ! 
That  seeks  the  greatness  that  will  overwhelm  thee. 
Stay  but  a  little;  for  my  cloud  of  dignity 
Is  held  from  falling  with  so  weak  a  wind, 
That  it  will  quickly  drop :  my  day  is  dim. 


322  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

•Thou  hast  stolen  that  which,  after  some  few  hours, 

Were  thine  without  offence  ;  and  at  my  death 

Thou  hast  sealed  my  expectation : 

Thy  life  did  manifest  thou  lov'dst  me  not, 

And  thou  wilt  have  me  die  assured  of  it. 

Thou  hid'st  a  thousand  daggers  in  thy  thoughts ; 

Which  thou  hast  whetted  on  thy  stony  heart, 

To  stab  at  half  an  hour  of  my  life. 

What !  canst  thou  not  forbear  me  half  an  hour  ? 

Then  get  thee  gone ;   and  dig  my  grave  thyself, 

And  bid  the  merry  bells  ring  to  thine  ear, 

That  thou  art  crowned,  and  not  that  I  am  dead. 

Let  all  the  tears  that  should  bedew  my  hearse, 

Be  drops  of  balm  to  sanctify  thy  head : 

Only  compound  me  with  forgotten  dust ; 

Give  that,  which  gave  thee  life,  unto  the  worms. 

Pluck  down  my  officers,  break  my  decrees ; 

For  now  a  time  is  come  to  mock  at  form, 

Harry  the  Fifth  is  crowned." 

The  old  chroniclers,  whom  Shakespeare  has  fol- 
lowed, differ  but  little  in  the  account  which  they 
give  of  the  abstraction  of  the  crown  by  Prince 
Henry.  The  king  had  for  some  time  been  sub- 
ject to  fits,  which  were  usually  followed  by  a 
lethargy,  and  it  was  on  one  of  these  occasions 
that  the  prince  entered  his  bedchamber,  and, 
conceiving  him  to  be  dead,  carried  away  the 

crown,  which  was  "set  on  a  pillow  at  the  bed's 

* 

head,"  or,  according  to  Montstrelet,  "on  a  cushion 
by  the  bedside."  The  king,  on  awaking,  missed 
his  crown,  and  being  informed  that  the  prince  had 
taken  it,  he  ordered  him  to  be  summoned  to  his 


OLD  PALACE  OF  WESTMINSTER.  323 

presence,  and  demanded  of  him  an  explanation  of 
his  conduct.  "Sire,"  said  the  prince,  "to  mine 
and  all  men's  judgments,  you  seemed  dead  in  this 
world ;  wherefore  I,  as  your  next  and  apparent 
heir,  took  the  crown  as  mine  own,  and  not  as 
yours."  "Well,  fair  son,"  replied  the  king,  with 
a  deep  sigh,  "what  right  I  had  to  it,  and  how  I 
enjoyed  it,  God  knoweth."  "  My  liege,"  returned 
the  prince,  "  if  you  die  king,  I  shall  have  the  gar- 
land, and  trust  to  keep  it  by  the  sword,  as  you 
have  done,  against  all  mine  enemies."  "Well," 
said  the  exhausted  king,  "  I  leave  all  things  to 
God,  and  pray  him  to  have  mercy  on  me." 

Not  long  after  this  memorable  interview  between 
the  father  and  son,  the  king  was  performing  his 
devotions  at  the  shrine  of  St.  Edward  in  West- 
minster Abbey,  when  he  was  seized  with  a  fit, 
and  being  carried  into  the  Jerusalem  Chamber, 
had  strength  enough  to  address  some  earnest 
words  of  parting  advice  to  Prince  Henry,  and 
shortly  afterward  expired. 

The  handsome  and  warlike  Henry  the  Fifth  was 
crowned  at  Westminster  on  the  Qth  of  April,  1413, 
and,  like  most  of  his  predecessors,  made  the  palace 
of  the  Confessor  his  constant  residence  when  in 
London.  Here  he  returned  in  great  triumph  after 
his  splendid  victory  at  Agincourt,  in  1415,  the  lord 
mayor  and  aldermen  attending  him  through  the 
city  to  the  palace  gates,  "apparelled,"  says  Hall, 
"in  grained  scarlet,  the  commoners  in  beautiful 


324  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

murrey,  well  mounted  and  gorgeously  horsed,  with 
rich  collars  and  great  chains."  Here,  the  follow- 
ing year,  the  king  "  lodged  in  his  own  palace,"  and 
entertained,  with  gorgeous  jousts  and  tournaments, 
the  Emperor  Sigismond,  and  Albert,  Duke  of  Hol- 
land;  hither,  in  1421,  he  conducted  in  great  state 
his  fair  queen,  Katherine,  daughter  of  Charles  the 
Sixth,  whom  he  had  recently  married  in  France; 
and  lastly,  the  same  year,  here  we  find  him  en- 
tertaining the  chivalrous,  the  accomplished,  and  un- 
fortunate James  the  First  of  Scotland,  who,  at  the 
queen's  coronation  feast,  was  seated  at  her  left  hand. 
King  Henry  died  in  the  Chateau  de  Vincennes, 
near  Paris,  on  the  3ist  of  August,  1422,  and  was 
succeeded  by  his  infant  son,  the  unfortunate 
Henry  the  Sixth,  then  only  eight  months  old. 
During  the  early  part  of  this  reign  we  find  but 
few  notices  of  the  old  palace.  Here,  however,  it 
was,  in  1444,  that  the  king  was  united  in  marriage 
to  the  accomplished  and  high-spirited  Margaret 
of  Anjou,  daughter  of  Rene,  titular  King  of  Sicily, 
Naples,  and  Jerusalem;  and  here  on  the  i3th  of 
October,  1453,  the  intrepid  queen  was  delivered 
of  her  eldest  son,  the  ill-fated  Prince  Edward. 
This  was  the  child  which  she  held  in  her  arms, 
when,  a  fugitive  after  the  battle  of  Hexham,  she 
encountered  the  robber  in  the  forest ;  and  the  same 
prince  who,  in  1471,  was  so  inhumanly  butchered 
by  the  Dukes  of  Clarence  and  Gloucester,  after 
the  battle  of  Tewkesbury. 


OLD  PALACE  OF  WESTMINSTER.  325 

"...  Then  came  wandering  by 
A  shadow  like  an  angel,  with  bright  hair 
Dabbled  in  blood  ;  —  and  he  shrieked  out  aloud, 
Clarence  is  come,  —  false,  fleeting,  perjured  Clarence, — 
That  stabbed  me  in  the  field  by  Tewkesbury  ;  — 
Seize  on  him,  furies,  take  him  to  your  torments." 

In  1450,  "in  a  tower  within  the  palace  of  West- 
minster," was  imprisoned  the  once  powerful  sub- 
ject, Edward  de  la  Pole,  Duke  of  Suffolk.  He 
was  subsequently  tried  by  his  peers  in  the  king's 
chamber,  and,  being  sentenced  to  banishment,  was 
on  his  way  across  the  channel  to  France,  when 
he  was  intercepted  by  his  enemies,  and  his  head 
being  cut  off  on  the  side  of  a  long  boat,  his  body 
was  thrown  into  the  sea.  In  the  same  year  we 
find  the  king  holding  his  court  at  Westminster, 
and  from  hence,  on  the  breaking  out  of  the  in- 
surrection of  Jack  Cade,  he  flew  for  refuge  to 
Kenilworth. 

It  was  during  the  temporary  reconciliation  be- 
tween the  rival  houses  of  York  and  Lancaster,  in 
1459,  that  tne  apparently  trifling  circumstance 
of  a  "fray"  between  one  of  the  king's  servants 
and  a  retainer  of  the  "king-maker,"  Earl  of  War- 
wick, led  to  a  renewal  of  hostilities  and  the  shed- 
ding of  the  most  illustrious  blood  in  the  kingdom. 
The  quarrel,  it  seems,  took  place  while  Warwick 
was  attending  the  king  in  council,  having  left  his 
retainers  in  the  courtyard  of  the  palace.  "A 
fray,"  says  Holinshed,  "was  made  upon  a  yeo- 


326  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

man  of  the  Earl  of  Warwick  by  one  of  the  king's 
servants,  in  the  which  the  assailant  was  sore  hurt, 
but  the  earl's  man  fled.  Hereupon  the  king's 
menial  servants,  seeing  their  fellow  hurt  and  the 
offender  escaped,  assembled  together  and  watched 
the  earl  when  he  returned  from  the  council-cham- 
ber toward  his  barge,  and  suddenly  set  on  him, 
the  yeomen  with  swords,  the  black  guard  with 
spits  and  fireforks.  After  long  fight,  and  many 
of  the  earl's  men  maimed  and  hurt,  by  help  of  his 
friends  he  got  a  wherry,  and  so  escaped  to  London. 
The  queen,  advertised  hereof,  incontinently  com- 
manded that  he  should  be  apprehended  and  com- 
mitted to  the  Tower,  where,  if  he  had  been  taken, 
he  had  shortly  ended  his  days."  The  earl  flew  to 
his  government  at  Calais,  and  immediately  both 
parties  openly  made  preparations  in  every  part  of 
England  for  renewing  the  sanguinary  contest. 

In  July,  the  following  year,  the  old  palace  wit- 
nessed a  still  more  extraordinary  scene.  The  result 
of  the  battle  of  Northampton  having  proved  fatal 
to  the  fortunes  of  Henry  the  Sixth,  and  having 
placed  the  person  of  the  unfortunate  monarch  in 
the  hands  of  his  enemies,  Richard  Plantagenet, 
Duke  of  York  (who  claimed  the  throne  as  rep- 
resentative of  Edward  the  Third),  took  advantage 
of  this  favourable  opportunity  of  advancing  his 
claims.  Attended  by  a  numerous  body  of  his 
friends  and  their  retainers,  a  naked  sword  being 
borne  before  him,  and  trumpets  sounding  defiance, 


OLD  PALACE  OF  WESTMINSTER.  327 

he  proceeded  to  Westminster,  where  the  Parlia- 
ment was  then  assembled,  and  alighted  from  his 
horse  at  the  great  entrance  to  the  palace.  "  At 
his  coming  to  Westminster,"  says  Holinshed,  "he 
entered  the  palace,  and,  passing  forth  directly 
through  the  great  hall,  stayed  not  till  he  came  to 
the  chamber  where  the  king  and  lords  used  to  sit 
in  the  Parliament  time,  commonly  called  the  Upper 
House,  a  chamber  of  the  peers,  and  being  there 
entered,  stept  up  into  the  throne-room,  and  there, 
laying  his  hand  upon  the  cloth  of  estate,  seemed 
as  if  he  meant  to  take  possession  of  that  which 
was  his  right  (for  he  held  his  hand  so  upon  that 
cloth  a  pretty  good  while),  and  after  withdrawing 
his  hand,  turned  his  face  toward  the  people. 
Beholding  their  pressing  together,  and  marking 
what  countenance  they  made  whilst  he  thus  stood 
and  beheld  the  people,  supposing  they  rejoiced  to 
see  his  presence,  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury 
(Thomas  Bourchier)  came  to  him,  and,  after  due 
salutations,  asked  him  if  he  would  come  and  see 
the  king ;  with  which  demand  he,  seeming  to  take 
disdain,  answered  briefly,  and  in  a  few  words  thus, 
'  I  remember  not  that  I  know  any  within  this 
realm,  but  that  it  beseemeth  him  rather  to  come 
and  see  my  person,  than  I  go  and  see  his.'  The 
archbishop,  hearing  his  answer,  went  back  to  the 
king,  that  lay  in  the  queen's  lodging.  The  duke 
also  departed,  and  went  to  the  most  principal  lodg- 
ing that  the  king  had  within  all  his  palace,  breaking 


328  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

up  the  locks  and  doors,  and  so  lodged  himself 
therein,  more  like  to  a  king  than  a  duke ;  continu- 
ing in  the  same  lodging  for  a  time,  to  the  great 
indignation  of  many  that  could  not  in  any  wise 
like  such  presumptuous  attempts  made  by  the 
duke  to  thrust  himself  in  possession  of  the  crown, 
and  to  depose  King  Henry  who  had  reigned  over 
them  so  long  a  time." 

At  a  subsequent  debate,  the  Duke  of  York  pre- 
sented himself  before  the  assembled  peers,  and 
forcibly  appealed  to  them  as  his  natural  and  legal 
judges.  He  dwelt  on  the  cruelties  with  which 
the  house  of  Lancaster  had  paved  their  way  to 
the  throne ;  insisted  on  the  calamities  which  had 
attended  the  misgovernment  of  Henry,  and  con- 
cluded by  entreating  them  to  do  justice  to  himself, 
who  was  their  legitimate  and  rightful  sovereign. 
The  duke  had  probably  anticipated  that  the  peers 
would  have  invited  him  to  seat  himself  in  the 
vacant  throne;  but  the  only  result  was  an  awful 
silence,  "the  lords,"  says  Hall,  "sitting  still  like 
images  graven  in  the  wall,  or  dumb  gods,  neither 
whispering  nor  speaking,  as  though  their  mouths 
had  been  sewed  up."  The  duke,  however,  had  no 
sooner  quitted  the  assembly  than  the  peers  entered 
into  a  solemn  discussion  as  to  the  legality  of  his 
claims.  The  result  was,  that  they  declared  his 
title  to  the  throne  to  be  certain  and  indefeasible ; 
but  in  consideration  of  King  Henry  having  been 
invested  with  the  regal  authority  for  thirty-eight 


OLD   PALACE  OF  WESTMINSTER.  329 

years,  they  decided  that  he  should  retain  the 
empty  title  and  dignity  of  king  for  the  remainder 
of  his  life ;  while  the  administration  of  the  govern- 
ment was  to  be  transferred  to  the  Duke  of  York, 
who  was  declared  to  be  the  true  and  rightful 
heir  to  the  crown  which  had  been  worn  by  his 
ancestors. 

These  extraordinary  proceedings  having  reached 
the  ears  of  Queen  Margaret,  that  heroic  princess, 
trembling  for  the  rights  of  her  young  son,  as  well 
as  indignant  at  her  husband's  degradation,  flew  to 
arms,  and  in  a  short  time  had  collected  an  army 
of  twenty  thousand  men.  The  Duke  of  York 
hastened  to  give  her  battle,  and  the  two  armies 
met  on  the  field  of  Wakefield.  The  result  is  well 
known.  The  queen's  troops  were  successful,  and 
the  Duke  of  York  being  killed  on  the  field  of 
battle,  his  head,  by  Margaret's  orders,  was  sev- 
ered from  his  body,  and,  with  a  paper  crown 
attached  to  it  in  derision,  was  fixed  on  the  gates 
of  York. 

Margaret's  triumph,  however,  was  of  short  dura- 
tion. The  battle  of  Mortimer's  Cross  followed  the 
same  year,  when  the  Earl  of  March,  afterward 
Edward  the  Fourth,  revenged  the  death  of  his 
father,  the  late  Duke  of  York,  by  completely 
defeating  his  adversaries,  leaving  nearly  four  thou- 
sand of  them  dead  on  the  field  of  battle. 

Marching  to  London,  the  young  Earl  of  March 
encamped  his  victorious  troops  in  St.  John's  Fields, 


330  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

Clerkenwell,  and  proceeded  to  prefer  those  claims 
to  the  throne  which  had  previously  been  advanced 
by  his  deceased  father.  His  youth  and  handsome 
person,  his  affability,  his  personal  courage,  and 
numerous  accomplishments,  had  already  earned  for 
him  the  suffrages  of  the  people ;  and,  accordingly, 
a  large  assemblage  of  peers,  prelates,  and  magis- 
trates having  met  at  Baynard's  Castle,  it  was 
there  determined  that  King  Henry,  by  violating 
his  faith  in  joining  the  queen's  army,  had  forfeited 
his  claims  to  the  crown,  and  that  it  had  conse- 
quently fallen  to  the  inheritance  of  the  son  of  the 
late  Duke  of  York. 

The  young  king  took  possession  of  the  crown 
and  the  palace  of  his  predecessor  at  the  same  time, 
and  while  he  was  feasting  in  the  regal  halls  of 
Westminster,  the  unfortunate  Henry  was  bemoan- 
ing his  fate,  a  prisoner  in  the  gloomy  apartments 
of  the  Tower.  On  the  4th  of  March,  1461,  the 
day  after  the  conference  took  place  in  Baynard's 
Castle,  Edward  was  conducted  in  solemn  state,  and 
amidst  the  cheers  of  the  populace,  through  the 
city  to  Westminster.  On  entering  the  great  hall, 
he  took  his  seat  on  the  throne,  with  the  sceptre  of 
Edward  the  Confessor  in  his  hand ;  when,  silence 
having  been  proclaimed,  a  paper  was  read  aloud 
which  stated  his  claims  to  the  throne,  and  he  was 
then  hailed  as  king  by  the  bystanders.  Immedi- 
ately afterward  he  repaired  to  the  abbey  church, 
where,  having  performed  his  devotions  at  the  shrine 


OLD  PALACE  OF  WESTMINSTER.  331 

of  St.  Edward,  the  assembled  nobles  knelt  one  by 
one  and  did  homage  to  him. 

In  May,  1465,  we  find  Edward  celebrating  the 
coronation  of  his  beautiful  consort,  Elizabeth  Grey, 
with  great  rejoicings  at  Westminster ;  and  here,  on, 
the  Qth  of  April,  1483,  the  gallant  and  amorous 
monarch  breathed  his  last.  He  was  buried  at 
Windsor,  where,  in  1789,  his  body  was  discovered 
undecayed,  his  dress  being  nearly  perfect,  as  were 
also  the  lineaments  of  his  face. 

During  the  few  months  that  the  unfortunate 
Edward  the  Fifth  was  allowed  to  sit  on  the  throne, 
we  find  the  young  king  on  more  than  one  occasion 
residing  in  the  palace  of  Westminster.  It  was  in 
one  of  the  apartments  of  this  very  palace  that, 
a  few  years  before,  his  father,  King  Edward  the 
Fourth,  had  created  him,  with  unusual  state  and 
ceremony,  Prince  of  Wales,  Duke  of  Cornwall, 
and  Earl  of  Chester ;  there  had  then  knelt  and 
sworn  fealty  to  the  royal  infant,  as  the  undoubted 
heir  to  the  throne,  his  uncles  the  Dukes  of  Clar- 
ence and  Gloucester,  the  Archbishops  of  Canter- 
bury and  York,  eight  prelates,  and  all  the  principal 
nobility  of  the  realm.  Who  at  that  moment  could 
have  foretold  the  fate  which  awaited  the  heir  of 
the  Plantagenets  ?  and  yet,  before  twelve  years 
had  elapsed,  one  of  that  assembly  had  become  his 
murderer,  and,  of  the  others,  scarcely  one  had 
remained  true  to  the  obligation  by  which  they  had 
so  solemnly  bound  themselves. 


332  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

The  Duke  of  Gloucester,  by  his  talent  and  his 
crimes,  having  invested  himself  with  the  regal 
power,  was  proclaimed  king  on  the  2Oth  of  June, 
1483,  by  the  title  of  King  Richard  the  Third. 
The  same  day  he  proceeded  in  great  state  to  West- 
minster Hall,  where,  surrounded  by  the  prelates 
and  nobles  of  the  realm,  he  took  his  seat  in  the 
throne  of  the  Plantagenets.  He  then  addressed 
himself  to  the  assembly.  "  He  declared,"  says 
Holinshed,  "that  he  would  take  upon  him  the 
crown  in  that  place  there,  where  the  king  himself 
sitteth  and  ministereth  the  law,  because  he  con- 
sidered that  it  was  the  chiefest  duty  of  a  king  to 
minister  the  laws.  Then,  with  as  pleasant  an  ora- 
tion as  he  could,  he  went  about  to  win  unto  him 
the  nobles,  the  merchants,  the  artificers  ;  and,  in 
conclusion,  all  kind  of  men,  but  especially  the 
lawyers  of  the  realm.  And,  finally  (to  the  intent 
that  no  man  should  hate  him  for  fear,  and  that  his 
deceitful  clemency  might  get  him  the  good-will  of 
the  people),  when  he  had  declared  the  discommodi- 
ties of  discord,  and  the  commodities  of  concord 
and  unity,  he  made  an  open  proclamation  that  he 
did  put  out  of  his  mind  all  enmities,  and  that 
he  there  did  openly  pardon  all  offences  committed 
against  him.  And  to  the  intent  that  he  might 
show  a  proof  thereof,  he  commanded  that  one  Fog, 
whom  he  had  long  deadly  hated,  should  be  brought 
then  before  him  ;  who,  being  brought  out  of  the 
sanctuary  (for  thither  he  had  fled  for  fear  of  him), 


OLD  PALACE  OF  WESTMINSTER.  333 

in  the  sight  of  the  people  he  took  him  by  the 
hand.  Which  thing  the  common  people  rejoiced 
at,  but  wise  men  took  it  for  a  vanity." 

On  the  22d  of  August,  1485,  King  Richard  paid 
the  penalty  of  his  crimes  on  the  field  of  Bosworth, 
and  on  the  3Oth  of  October  following,  his  victori- 
ous rival,  the  Earl  of  Richmond,  was  solemnly 
crowned  at  Westminster  by  the  title  of  King 
Henry  the  Seventh.  Here  he  constantly  kept  his 
court,  but,  with  the  exception  of  the  rejoicings 
attending  his  coronation,  and  those  which  followed 
his  marriage  with  Elizabeth,  daughter  of  Edward 
the  Fourth,  we  find  the  old  palace  presenting  no 
particular  feature  of  interest  during  his  reign. 

Henry  the  Eighth  was  the  last  of  our  monarchs 
who  have  resided  or  kept  their  courts  in  the  halls 
of  the  Confessor.  In  the  early  part  of  his  reign, 
the  old  palace  appears  to  have  been  the  constant 
scene  of  tournaments,  masks,  and  all  kinds  of 
pageantries  and  "solemnities."  Here,  a  few 
months  after  the  marriage  of  the  young  king 
with  Catherine  of  Aragon,  occurred  the  following 
scenes,  as  described  by  the  old  chronicler,  Hall : 
"  On  a  morning,  his  Grace  (the  king),  the  Earls  of 
Wiltshire,1  Essex,2  and  other  noblemen,  to  the 

1  Lord  Henry  Stafford,  younger  son  of  Henry,  second  Duke 
of  Buckingham,  created,  by  Henry  the  Eighth,  Earl  of  Wiltshire 
in  1509.     He  died  in  1523. 

2  Henry  Bourchier,  second  Earl  of   Essex,  a  nobleman  dis- 
tinguished alike  for  his  valour  and  his  virtues.     He  was  held  in 
great  consideration  by  Henry  the  Seventh,  in  whose  reign  he  was 


334  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

number  of  twelve,  came  suddenly  into  the  queen's 
chamber,  all  apparelled  in  short  coats  of  Kentish 
Kendal,  with  hoods  on  their  heads,  and  hoses  of 
the  same ;  every  one  of  them  having  his  bow  and 
arrows,  and  a  sword  and  buckler,  like  outlaws  or 
Robin  Hood's  men ;  whereof  the  queen,  the  ladies, 
and  all  other  there  were  abashed,  as  well  for  the 
strange  sight,  as  also  for  their  sudden  coming  ; 
and,  after  certain  dances  and  pastime  made,  they 
departed.  On  Shrove  Sunday,  the  same  year,  the 
king  prepared  a  goodly  banquet,  in  the  Parliament 
Chamber,  for  all  the  ambassadors  which  were  then 
here  out  of  divers  realms  and  countries.  The 
banquet  being  ready,  the  king,  leading  the  queen, 
entered  into  the  chamber ;  then  the  ladies,  the 
ambassadors,  and  other  noblemen,  followed  in 
order.  The  king  caused  the  queen  to  keep  the 
estate,  and  then  sat  the  ambassadors  and  ladies, 

a  Privy  Councillor,  and  had  an  important  command  at  the  battle 
of  Blackheath.  On  the  accession  of  Henry  the  Eighth,  he  was 
appointed  captain  of  the  king's  horse  guards,  then  newly  con- 
stituted as  a  body-guard  of  the  sovereign.  The  corps,  we  are 
told,  consisted  of  fifty  horse,  "  trapped  with  cloth  of  gold,  or 
goldsmith's  work  ;  whereof  every  one  had  his  archer,  a  demi- 
lance, and  coustrill."  In  1513,  he  accompanied  his  royal  master 
into  France  as  lieutenant-general  of  all  the  spears,  and  at  the 
famous  tournament  in  1516,  in  honour  of  the  king's  sister,  Mar- 
garet, Queen  of  Scotland,  he  was  one  of  the  four  challengers, 
including  the  king,  the  Duke  of  Suffolk,  and  Nicholas  Carew, 
Esq.,  who  answered  all  comers.  In  1520,  the  Earl  of  Essex 
again  attended  Henry  to  France,  and  bore  a  conspicuous  part  in 
the  magnificent  pageantry  on  the  "  Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold." 
The  earl  died,  in  consequence  of  a  fall  from  his  horse,  in  1 529. 


OLD  PALACE  OF  WESTMINSTER.  335 

as  they  were  marshalled  by  the  king,  who  would 
not  sit,  but  walked  from  place  to  place,  making 
cheer  to  the  queen  and  the  strangers  :  suddenly 
the  king  was  gone.  Shortly  after,  his  Grace, 
with  the  Earl  of  Essex,  came  in  apparelled  after 
the  Turkish  fashion,  in  long  robes  of  bawdkin, 
powdered  with  gold ;  hats  on  their  heads  of  crim- 
son velvet,  with  great  rolls  of  gold,  girded  with 
two  swords,  called  scimitars,  hanging  by  great 
bawdricks  of  gold.  Next  came  the  Lord  Henry, 
Earl  of  Wiltshire,  and  the  Lord  Fitzwalter, '  in  two 
long  gowns  of  yellow  satin,  traversed  with  white 
satin,  and  in  every  bend  of  white  was  a  bend  of 
crimson  satin,  after  the  fashion  of  Russia,  with 
furred  hats  of  gray  on  their  heads,  either  of  them 
having  a  hatchet  in  their  hands,  and  boots  with 
pykes  turned  up.  And  after  them  came  Sir  Ed- 
ward Howard,  then  admiral,2  and  with  him  Sir 

1  Robert  Ratcliffe,  Viscount  Fit/.walter,  a  Knight  of  the 
Garter,  and  lord  high  chamberlain  to  Henry  the  Eighth,  with 
whom  he  was  an  especial  favourite.  He  died  in  1 542. 

*  Second  son  of  Thomas,  second  Duke  of  Norfolk.  Some 
years  afterward  this  gallant  officer,  having  received  a  severe  and 
undeserved  reproof  from  his  royal  master,  resolved,  in  the  next 
engagement  with  the  enemy,  either  to  conquer  or  to  die.  Accord- 
ingly, when  an  opportunity  offered  itself  of  an  engagement  with 
a  French  galley,  he  ordered  his  own  vessel  to  be  grappled  to  the 
enemy's;  but,  while  in  the  act  of  boarding  with  eighteen  fol- 
lowers, unfortunately  the  cable  was  either  cut  or  burst  asunder, 
and  he  was  borne  overboard  by  the  pikes  of  the  Frenchmen.  By 
his  will,  he  "  bequeathed  to  the  king's  grace  his  great  whistle." 
Henry  had  recently  honoured  him  with  the  Order  of  the  Garter, 
but  he  died  before  the  intelligence  reached  him. 


336  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

Thomas  Parr,1  in  doublets  of  crimson  velvet, 
voyded  low  on  the  back  and  before  to  the  cannell- 
bone,  laced  on  the  breasts  with  chains  of  silver ; 
and,  over  that,  short  cloaks  of  crimson  satin,  and 
on  their  heads  hats  after  the  dancers'  fashion,  with 
pheasants'  feathers  in  them  :  these  were  apparelled 
after  the  fashion  of  Prussia.  The  torch-bearers 
were  apparelled  in  crimson  satin  and  green,  like 
Moors,  their  faces  black.  And  the  king  brought 
in  a  mommarye.  After  that  the  king,  the  queen, 
and  ladies,  such  as  would,  had  played,  the  said 
mummers  departed,  and  put  off  the  said  apparel, 
and  soon  after  entered  into  the  chamber  in  their 
usual  apparel.  And  so  the  king  made  great  cheer 
to  the  queen,  ladies,  and  ambassadors.  The 
supper  or  banquet  ended,  and  the  tables  avoyded, 
the  queen  with  the  ladies  took  their  places  in  their 
degrees.  Then  began  the  dancing,  and  every 
man  took  much  heed  to  them  that  danced.  After 
the  king's  grace  and  the  ladies  had  danced  a 
certain  time,  they  departed  every  one  to  his 
lodging." 

In  February,  1511,  on  the  occasion  of  the 
queen  being  delivered  of  a  son,  we  find  the  old 
palace  again  the  scene  of  fantastic  but  splendid 
pageantries.  On  the  second  day  there  was  a  magnifi- 
cent tournament,  on  which  occasion  the  king  rode 
forth  on  horseback  from  under  a  gorgeous  pavilion 
"  of  cloth  of  gold  and  purple  velvet  embroidered, 

1  Father  of  Queen  Catherine  Parr. 


OLD  PALACE  OF  WESTMINSTER.  337 

powdered  with  fine  gold."  The  principal  com- 
batants were  the  king,  the  Marquis  of  Dorset,  the 
Earl  of  Wiltshire,  Sir  Charles  Brandon,  and  Sir 
Thomas  Boleyn,  among  whom,  we  are  told,  "his 
Grace  attained  the  prize."  After  evening  song, 
the  bevy  of  "gorgeous  dames  and  barons  bold" 
proceeded  to  one  of  the  halls  of  the  palace,  which 
was  richly  hung  for  the  occasion.  Here  a  mag- 
nificent banquet  was  provided,  at  which  Henry 
knighted  the  celebrated  Irish  chieftain,  Shan 
O'Neal,  and  afterward  there  was  a  mask,  in  which 
the  king  appeared  in  a  purple  satin  suit,  brocaded 
with  "posies."  And,  then,  says  Holinshed,  "the 
minstrels,  which  were  disguised,  danced,  and  the 
lords  and  ladies  danced,  that  it  was  a  pleasure  to 
behold." 

From  this  period,  the  old  palace  of  the  Confes- 
sor ceased  to  be  associated  with  the  domestic 
history  of  the  Kings  of  England.  In  1512  a 
considerable  portion  of  it  was  destroyed  by  fire, 
and  from  this  time,  till  St.  James's  Palace  was 
made  an  appanage  of  the  Crown  and  till  Whitehall 
passed  from  the  hands  of  Cardinal  Wolsey  into 
those  of  Henry,  we  find  the  king  holding  his 
court  either  at  Baynard's  Castle,  Bridewell,  or  the 
Tower. 

Before  concluding  our  memoir  of  the  old  palace, 
let  us  briefly  notice  those  interesting  parts  of  it,  of 
which  the  ancient  walls  still  exist,  or  of  which  the 
site  has  been  well  ascertained. 


338  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

Apparently  the  most  ancient  part  is  the  apart- 
ment facing  the  abbey  at  present  used  as  the 
House  of  Commons,  but  which,  previously  to  the 
fatal  fire  of  1834,  was  the  House  of  Lords,  and 
was  hung  with  the  famous  tapestry,  representing 
the  victories  over  the  Spanish  Armada,  which  was 
unfortunately  destroyed  by  the  conflagration.  In 
the  reign  of  Henry  the  Seventh,  and  up  to  a  much 
later  period,  this  apartment  was  known  as  the  Court 
of  Requests,  being  so  called  from  the  petitions,  or 
requests,  addressed  to  the  king,  being  usually  re- 
ceived here  by  the  officers  of  state.  That  it  is 
a  portion  of  the  ancient  palace  of  the  Confessor 
there  can  be  little  doubt ;  indeed,  it  has  been 
presumed,  and  not  without  reason,  that  it  was 
the  banqueting-room  of  the  early  Norman  kings, 
before  the  erection  of  the  great  hall  by  William 
Rufus. 

The  next  apartment,  and  the  most  interesting 
one  perhaps  of  which  there  are  any  remains,  is  the 
Painted  Chamber,  so  often  mentioned  in  the  annals 
of  the  old  palace  as  St.  Edward's  chamber.  It 
is  now  temporarily  used  as  the  House  of  Lords, 
having  been  new  roofed  after  the  fire  of  1834, 
and  its  walls  raised  to  suit  this  particular  purpose. 
This  apartment  will  always  be  deeply  interesting, 
as  that  in  which,  it  is  said,  Edward  the  Confessor 
breathed  his  last,  Editha,  his  queen,  and  his  un- 
fortunate successor,  King  Harold,  watching  by  his 
bedside.  As  early  as  the  reign  of  Edward  the 


OLD  PALACE  OF  WESTMINSTER.  339 

Third,  we  find  it  designated  as  "  Le  Chambre  de 
Peinte"  and  the  delight,  therefore,  of  our  an- 
tiquaries may  be  readily  imagined  when,  on  the 
removal  of  some  old  tapestries,  in  1800,  the  an- 
cient paintings,  from  which  it  derived  its  name, 
were  discovered  on  the  walls.  Considering  their 
antiquity,  they  were  possessed  of  considerable  and 
unexpected  merit.  They  represented  the  battles 
of  the  Maccabees;  the  Seven  Brethren;  the  de- 
livery of  the  ring  and  the  message  from  St.  John 
the  Evangelist  to  Edward  the  Confessor,  and 
lastly  the  canonisation  of  the  royal  saint.  It  is 
difficult  to  believe  that,  since  the  days  of  the 
Goths,  and,  much  less  in  the  nineteenth  century, 
such  utter  and  inconceivable  want  of  taste  and 
feeling  should  have  existed  as  could  permit  the 
destruction  of  these  priceless  relics.  It  is  a  fact, 
however,  that  the  authorities  of  the  day  sanctioned 
their  being  coated  over  with  whitewash ;  and  it  is 
rumoured,  though  the  fact  is  scarcely  credible,  that 
the  same  want  of  taste  has  sanctioned  the  destruc- 
tion of  one  of  the  most  interesting  apartments  in 
Europe,  —  the  Painted  Chamber  itself. 

When,  in  1337,  a  war  was  threatened  between 
England  and  France,  it  was  in  the  Painted  Chamber 
that  Edward  the  Third  received,  in  great  state, 
the  cardinal  ambassadors  from  Pope  Benedict  the 
Twelfth,  who  came  with  the  express  purpose  of 
effecting  a  reconciliation  between  the  two  coun- 
tries. Here,  in  the  time  of  the  Norman  kings, 


340  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

the  opening  of  new  Parliaments  usually  took  place, 
and  here,  during  the  latter  part  of  the  reign  of 
Edward  the  Third,  the  Commons  of  England  held 
their  debates.  It  was  not,  indeed,  until  the  two 
last  Parliaments  which  were  held  in  this  reign, 
that  the  Commons  were  directed  to  withdraw  to 
their  ancient  place  of  assemblage  in  the  Chapter 
House  of  Westminster ;  the  latter  building  being 
remarkable  as  the  spot  where  the  Commons  first 
sat  as  a  distinct  body  apart  from  the  Lords. 

It  was  the  Painted  Chamber  which  witnessed 
the  memorable  scene  of  the  regicides  affixing  their 
signatures  to  the  death-warrant  of  Charles  the 
First.  It  was  seated  at  a  table  in  this  chamber, 
that  Oliver  Cromwell,  immediately  after  affixing 
his  signature  to  the  warrant  for  the  execution  of 
his  sovereign,  jocularly  besmeared  with  his  pen 
the  face  of  Henry  Marten,  who  sat  next  him,  and 
who  retorted  the  miserable  jest.  Here,  too,  it  was, 
partly  by  force,  and  partly  by  jest  and  argument, 
that  Cromwell  induced  the  well-known  Colonel 
Ingoldesby  to  add  his  signature  to  those  of  the 
other  regicides.  Ingoldesby  happened  to  enter 
the  Painted  Chamber,  where  he  found  Cromwell 
and  some  of  the  most  daring  spirits  of  the  party 
assembled  in  consultation.  They  consisted  of  such 
persons  as  had  already  decided  on  the  king's  death, 
and  who  were  now  met  together  to  affix  their  names 
to  the  memorable  instrument.  "As  soon,"  says 
Lord  Clarendon,  "as  Cromwell's  eyes  were  on 


OLD  PALACE  OF  WESTMINSTER.  341 

him,  he  ran  to  him,  and,  taking  him  by  the  hand, 
drew  him  by  force  to  the  table,  and  said,  '  Though 
he  had  escaped  him  all  the  while  before,  he  should 
now  sign  that  paper  as  well  as  they ; '  which  he, 
seeing  what  it  was,  refused  with  great  passion, 
saying  he  knew  nothing  of  the  business,  and  of- 
fered to  go  away.  But  Cromwell  and  others  held 
him  by  violence,  and  Cromwell,  with  a  loud  laugh- 
ter, taking  his  hand  in  his,  and  putting  the  pen 
between  his  fingers,  with  his  own  hand  writ  Rich- 
ard Ingoldesby,  he  making  all  the  resistance  he 
could." 

In  the  Painted  Chamber  lay  in  state  the  body 
of  Elizabeth  Claypole,  the  favourite  daughter  of 
Oliver  Cromwell,  previously  to  its  interment  in 
Westminster  Abbey ;  and  here  also  was  the  rest- 
ing-place, between  the  palace  of  Whitehall  and 
Henry  the  Seventh's  Chapel,  of  the  neglected 
remains  of  the  "  merry  monarch,"  Charles  the 
Second.  Here  lay  in  state  the  body  of  the  great 
Earl  of  Chatham,  and  afterward  that  of  his  scarcely 
less  celebrated  son,  William  Pitt. 

At  the  south  end  of  the  old  Court  of  Requests 
was  the  prince's  chamber,  or,  as  it  was  designated 
in  our  own  times,  the  "  Old  Robing  Room,"  from 
the  sovereign  being  in  the  habit  of  robing  himself 
here  when  he  attended  Parliament.  The  founda- 
tions, as  well  as  the  walls  of  the  apartment  itself, 
were  apparently  of  the  time  of  the  Confessor,  but 
the  ornamental  part  had  generally  been  attributed 


342  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

to  the  reign  of  Henry  the  Third.  Formerly  this 
apartment  was  hung  with  some  curious  tapestry, 
representing  the  birth  of  Queen  Elizabeth.  Anne 
Boleyn  was  depicted  in  bed  with  an  attendant  on 
one  side,  and  the  nurse  with  the  royal  infant  on  the 
other,  Henry  and  his  courtiers  standing  at  some 
distance.  It  was  to  this  apartment  that  Lord 
Chatham  was  carried  when  he  was  seized  with 
his  memorable  and  fatal  illness  in  the  House  of 
Lords.  Immediately  between  the  north  end  of  the 
old  Court  of  Requests  and  the  south  end  of  West- 
minster Hall  appears  to  have  ran  the  White  Hall, 
or  Great  Chamber,  of  the  ancient  palace,  mem- 
orable from  having  been  the  scene  of  many  re- 
markable events  in  the  history  of  our  country, 
but  more  especially  as  having  been  the  apartment 
where  Edward  the  Black  Prince  breathed  his  last. 
At  the  east  end  of  the  Painted  Chamber  stood 
the  old  House  of  Lords,  the  foundations  of  which 
were  of  the  time  of  the  Confessor,  while  the  apart- 
ment itself  had  the  appearance  of  having  been 
rebuilt  in  the  reign  of  Henry  the  Second.  This 
was  the  ancient  "Parliament  Chamber,"  so  often 
mentioned  in  the  annals  of  the  old  palace,  and 
beneath  it  was  the  vault,  known  as  Guy  Fawkes's 
cellar,  in  which  the  conspirators,  associated  in  the 
Gunpowder  Plot,  concealed  the  barrels  of  powder 
with  which  they  proposed  to  destroy  the  king  and 
his  Parliament.  Among  the  principal  conspira- 
tors were  Thomas  Percy,  a  cadet  of  the  great 


OLD  PALACE  OF  WESTMINSTER.  343 

Northumberland  family ;  Robert  Catesby,  Esq., 
of  Ashby  in  Northamptonshire;  Thomas  Winter, 
a  gentleman  by  birth ;  and  Guy  Fawkes,  a  soldier 
of  fortune.  The  plan  by  which  they  proposed  to 
carry  out  their  horrible  project  was  by  hiring  a 
house  as  near  as  possible  to  the  Parliament  Cham- 
ber, by  which  means  they  hoped  to  be  able  to 
open  a  subterranean  communication  between  the 
cellar  of  the  one  and  the  foundations  of  the  other. 
Accordingly,  a  house  which  exactly  suited  their 
purpose  was  hired  in  the  name  of  Percy,  and  was 
taken  possession  of  by  Fawkes,  who  passed  as  his 
servant,  and  was  presumed  to  be  the  only  tenant. 
The  month  of  December,  1604,  was  fixed  upon  by 
the  conspirators  to  commence  their  labours,  and 
accordingly,  on  a  dark  night,  they  were  admitted 
by  Fawkes,  and  forthwith  set  to  work  at  their 
detestable  operations.  In  order  to  prevent  the 
suspicion  of  the  neighbours,  they  laid  in  a  store  of 
provisions  sufficient  to  last  them  twenty  days  ;  at 
the  same  time  providing  themselves  with  arms, 
being  determined,  in  case  of  discovery,  to  perish 
rather  than  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  government. 
The  perseverance  with  which  they  set  to  work  at 
their  demoniacal  task  was  deserving  a  better  cause. 
Each  person  worked  sixteen  hours  a  day,  so  con- 
triving it  that,  while  one  rested,  the  three  others 
laboured ;  Fawkes,  in  the  meanwhile,  keeping 
watch  from  the  windows,  and  communicating  to 
the  others,  by  some  private  signal,  whenever  any 


344  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

person  approached  the  house.  At  length  they 
came  to  a  wall,  which,  though  three  yards  in 
thickness,  they  had  nearly  succeeded  in  breaking 
through,  when  they  were  not  a  little  alarmed  at 
hearing  on  the  other  side  a  noise,  for  which  they 
could  in  no  way  account.  Fawkes  was  immediately 
despatched  to  make  inquiries ;  he  soon  returned 
with  the  information  that  the  noise  proceeded 
from  a  vault  under  the  Parliament  Chamber  ;  that 
this  vault  was  at  present  let  as  a  magazine  for 
coals,  and  that  these  coals  were  then  selling  off, 
when  the  vault  would  be  let  to  the  highest  bidder. 
The  opportunity  was  eagerly  seized  by  the  con- 
spirators ;  the  vault  was  taken  by  Fawkes  in  the 
name  of  his  presumed  master,  Percy,  and  thirty- 
six  barrels  of  gunpowder  were  forthwith  stowed 
in  it.  These  were  covered  over  with  fagots  and 
billets  of  wood,  and,  to  prevent  suspicion,  the 
doors  were  boldly  thrown  open  in  the  daytime, 
and  everybody  freely  admitted. 

The  extraordinary  circumstances  which  led  to 
the  discovery  of  the  dreadful  secret  are  too  well 
known  to  need  repetition.  It  is  sufficient  to 
observe  that  suspicion  was  no  sooner  aroused  than 
the  lord  chamberlain  and  his  attendants  pro- 
ceeded to  examine  the  vaults  and  cellars  beneath 
the  houses  of  Parliament,  disguising  their  real 
object  with  the  ostensible  purpose  of  searching 
for  some  missing  tapestry.  On  entering  the  cellar 
beneath  the  peers'  chamber,  they  were  struck 


OLD  PALACE  OF  WESTMINSTER.  345 

with  the  quantity  of  coals  and  fagots  which  it 
contained,  altogether  disproportionate  to  the  small 
establishment  kept  up  by  Percy,  whose  property 
the  fuel  was  said  to  be.  The  suspicions  of  the 
lord  chamberlain  were  not  the  less  aroused,  when, 
in  a  dark  corner,  he  beheld  Fawkes,  "  a  very  tall, 
desperate-looking  fellow,"  who,  in  answer  to  his 
inquiries,  stated  that  he  was  servant  to  Percy. 

The  next  day  was  that  on  which  Parliament  was 
appointed  to  assemble,  and,  accordingly,  it  was 
decided  that  the  same  night  another  and  more, 
rigorous  search  should  be  instituted,  and  espe- 
cially in  the  cellar  in  which  Fawkes  had  been 
discovered.  With  this  purpose,  about  midnight, 
Sir  Thomas  Knyvet,  a  justice  of  peace  for  West- 
minster, proceeded  to  the  spot  with  a  strong  body 
of  attendants,  and  had  the  good  fortune  to  arrest 
Fawkes  just  as  he  was  issuing  stealthily  from  the 
cellar.  He  was  dressed  and  booted  as  for  a  journey, 
and,  on  searching  him,  three  matches,  a  tinder-box, 
and  a  piece  of  touch-wood,  were  found  in  his  pocket, 
and  in  a  corner  behind  the  door  was  a  dark  lan- 
tern with  a  light  in  it.  Further  search  was  then 
made ;  the  fagots  were  removed,  and  the  whole 
plot  was  made  but  too  apparent.  Fawkes  subse- 
quently admitted  that,  at  the  time  he  was  seized, 
he  had  just  completed  his  preparations  for  firing 
the  train. 

Let  us  pass  on  to  the  site  of  the  famous  chapel 
of  St.  Stephen.  It  would  be  almost  an  imperti- 


346  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

nence  to  recall  to  the  reader's  recollection  the 
numerous  historical  events  with  which  this  inter- 
esting building  is  associated,  or  to  recapitulate  the 
names  of  the  numerous  illustrious  statesmen  whose 
eloquence  has  been  heard  within  its  walls. 

« St.  Stephen's !  on  the  silent  Thames  no  more 
Thy  shadows  lengthen  where  they  fell  of  yore ; 
Yet  still  we  tread  the  memorable  scene, 
Of  days  gone  by,  and  triumphs  that  have  been; 
Scene  of  the  patriot's  tear,  the  statesman's  toil ; 
Approach  with  awe  !  we  stand  on  sacred  soil ! 
Here  wit  and  goodness  thrilled  or  won  the  heart, 
A  Cato's  virtue,  or  a  Tully's  art ! 
Here  earlier  senates  held  the  high  debate, 
Here  Pym  and  Hampden  sealed  their  monarch's  fate  1 
Here  virtuous  Falkland  wept  the  patriot  tear, 
Here,  lordly  Strafford,  dawned  thy  high  career  ! 
Here  Cromwell,  thundering  with  his  iron  band, 
Thrust  forth  the  sovereign  Commons  of  the  land; 
From  yonder  table  dashed  the  bauble  mace, 
And  swept  the  mighty  from  their  pride  of  place  1 
Here  St.  John's  angel-eloquence  arose, 
And  Walpole  won,  and  Chatham  crushed,  his  foes  ! 
Pause  !  for  here  Pitt  a  wondering  senate  fired, 
Here  Burke  blazed  forth,  and  Perceval  expired ! 
Here  Erin's  wrongs  from  Grattan's  heart  were  wrung, 
And  England's  glories  burst  from  Canning's  tongue  !  " 

—J.H.J. 

St.  Stephen's  Chapel,  an  integral  part  of  the 
old  palace  in  which  the  Norman  kings  offered  up 
their  devotions,  was  originally  founded  by  King 
Stephen,  and  rebuilt  by  Edward  the  First.  Being 


OLD  PALACE  OF  WESTMINSTER.  347 

considerably  injured  by  the  "vehement  fire"  of 
1298,  Edward  the  Second  commenced  rebuilding 
it,  and  in  the  following  reign  of  Edward  the  Third, 
after  a  labour  of  seventeen  years,  it  was  completed 
with  an  elaborateness  and  magnificence  of  decora- 
tion which  rendered  it  a  model  of  perfection  as  a 
specimen  of  the  purest  style  of  Gothic  architec- 
ture. The  walls  were  covered  with  paintings  in 
oil,  of  great  richness  and  beauty ;  the  windows 
were  gorgeously  illuminated ;  and  all  the  internal 
fittings  and  ornaments,  the  jewels,  the  hangings 
of  the  altar,  and  the  vestments  of  the  priests,  cor- 
responded in  beauty  and  costliness  with  its  archi- 
tectural splendour. 

A  few  years  after  the  suppression  of  the  mo- 
nastic establishments,  this  beautiful  chapel  was 
converted  into  a  House  of  Commons ;  many  of 
its  decorations  had  previously  fallen  a  sacrifice  to 
the  fury  of  the  Reformation,  and  now  its  beautiful 
roof  was  concealed  by  a  false  ceiling,  and  its 
unique  oil  paintings  by  a  wooden  wainscoting. 
In  1800,  it  being  found  necessary  to  enlarge  the 
House  of  Commons  in  consequence  of  the  union 
with  Ireland,  the  panelling  was  removed,  when  a 
considerable  portion  of  the  old  paintings  was 
brought  to  view,  and  it  was  seen  how  costly  and 
elaborate  had  been  the  architectural  and  the  other 
decorations  of  this  beautiful  chapel.  The  fatal 
fire  of  1834  completed  the  work  of  destruction, 
and  of  those  who  witnessed  that  awful  but  mag- 


348  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

nificent  scene,  there  were  few  perhaps  who  felt 
without  a  sigh  that  they  would  never  again  tread 
the  floor  of  that  famous  apartment,  where  the 
Commons  of  England  had  sat  for  nearly  three 
centuries,  or  who  did  not  recall  the  time  when 
Charles  the  First  came  with  his  armed  band  to 
remove  the  "five  members,"  or  when  Cromwell 
ordered  his  Ironsides  to  remove  the  "  bauble " 
mace.  When  the  author,  for  the  last  time,  trod 
the  floor  of  St.  Stephen's,  the  fire  was  still  partially 
issuing  from  beneath,  and  the  walls  were  tottering 
above  his  head.  The  beautiful  crypt,  or  under- 
chapel,  still  remains  to  us,  but  St.  Stephen's  itself 
has  passed  away  for  ever. 

Old  and  New  Palace  Yards  are  not  without 
their  historical  associations.  In  the  former,  Guy 
Fawkes,  with  his  associates,  Thomas  Winter,  Am- 
brose Rookwood,  and  Robert  Keyes,  were  hanged, 
drawn,  and  quartered  ;  their  heads  being  subse- 
quently affixed  to  poles  on  London  Bridge,  and 
their  quarters  exposed  on  different  gates  of  the 
city.  The  house  occupied  by  the  conspirators,  in 
which,  in  darkness  and  stealth,  they  carried  on 
their  underground  operations,  was  situated  at  the 
northeast  corner  of  Old  Palace  Yard. 

Perhaps  the  event  which  throws  the  deepest 
interest  over  Old  Palace  Yard  is  its  having  been 
the  scene  of  the  execution  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh. 
He  was  brought  from  the  Tower,  on  the  morning 
of  the  29th  of  October,  1618,  and,  though  suffer- 


OLD  PALACE  OF  WESTMINSTER.  349 

ing  severely  from  illness,  maintained  his  dignity 
and  fortitude  to  the  last.  On  ascending  the  scaf- 
fold, he  observed  to  the  bystanders  :  "  I  desire  you 
will  bear  with  me  withal ;  and  if  I  show  any  weak- 
ness, I  beseech  you  to  attribute  it  to  my  malady, 
for  this  is  the  hour  in  which  it  is  wont  to  come." 
Having  concluded  his  well-known  beautiful  prayer, 
"  Now,"  he  said,  "  I  am  going  to  God."  Taking  up 
the  axe,  he  felt  its  edge,  and  said,  smilingly  :  "This 
is  a  sharp  medicine,  but  it  will  cure  all  diseases." 
The  executioner  inquiring  in  what  manner  he  pro- 
posed to  lay  his  head  upon  the  block,  "  So  the 
heart  be  straight,"  he  said,  "  it  is  no  matter  which 
way  the  head  lieth."  Having  lain  down,  and  the 
executioner  showing  some  hesitation  in  striking 
the  blow,  "  What  dost  thou  fear  ? "  he  said,  "  strike, 
man  !  "  His  head  was  then  severed  from  his  body 
at  two  blows. 

In  the  time  of  the  Commonwealth,  there  was 
a  well-known  place  of  entertainment  in  Old  Palace 
Yard,  known  by  the  singular  denomination  of 
"  Heaven."  Butler  speaks  of  it  in  "  Hudibras  " 
as  "  false  '  Heaven  '  at  the  end  of  the  hall ;  "  and 
Pepys  mentions  his  dining  there  in  1659—60.  "  I 
sent  a  porter,"  he  says,  "  to  my  house  for  my  best 
fur  cap,  and  so  I  returned  and  went  to  '  Heaven,' 
where  Luellin  and  I  dined."  About  the  same 
time,  a  club,  called  the  Rota,  was  founded  by  the 
celebrated  James  Harrington,  at  Miles's  Coffee- 
house, in  Old  Palace  Yard.  Pepys  was  a  mem- 


350  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

her  of  the  club,  and  more  than  once  mentions  the 
"  admirable  discourse  "  which  he  heard  there. 

Before  quitting  Old  Palace  Yard,  we  must  not 
omit  to  mention  that  when  the  celebrated  poet, 
Geoffrey  Chaucer,  held  the  appointment  of  clerk  of 
the  works  at  Westminster,  in  the  reign  of  Richard 
the  Second,  his  residence  stood  on  the  spot  where 
Henry  the  Seventh's  Chapel  now  stands,  and  here 
apparently  he  died.  By  a  curious  writ,  dated  the 
1 3th  of  July,  1389,  the  poet  was  appointed  clerk 
of  the  works  at  the  palace  of  Westminster,  the 
Tower  of  London,  the  Mews  near  Charing  Cross, 
and  other  places,  with  a  salary  of  two  shillings  a  day. 

In  New  Palace  Yard  anciently  stood  a  hand- 
some conduit  or  fountain,  which,  according  to 
Stow,  on  the  occasion  of  great  triumphs,  was 
"made  to  run  with  wine  out  of  diverse  spouts." 
And  opposite  the  hall,  on  the  site  of  the  present 
passage  into  Bridge  Street,  was  a  lofty  tower 
called  the  Clock  Tower. 

In  regard  to  this  tower,  the  following  rather 
curious  story  is  related.  In  the  reign  of  Henry 
the  Third,  a  certain  poor  man  having  been  fined 
the  sum  of  thirteen  and  fourpence  in  an  action 
for  debt,  Radulphus  de  Ingham,  Lord  Chief  Jus- 
tice of  the  King's  Bench,  commiserating  his  case, 
caused  the  court  roll  to  be  erased,  and  the  fine 
to  be  reduced  to  six  shillings  and  eightpence ; 
which,  being  soon  afterward  discovered,  the  judge 
was  sentenced  to  pay  a  fine  of  eight  hundred 


OLD  PALACE  OF  WESTMINSTER.  351 

marks.  This  sum,  it  is  said,  was  expended  on 
building  the  Clock  Tower,  in  which  there  was  a 
bell  or  a  clock,  which,  striking  hourly,  was  intended 
to  remind  the  judges  in  the  hall  of  the  fate  of 
their  brother.  There  seems  to  have  been  some 
truth  in  the  story.  In  the  reign  of  Queen  Eliza- 
beth, when  Catlyn,  Lord  Chief  Justice  of  the 
King's  Bench,  proposed  to  a  brother  judge  to 
have  a  court  roll  erased,  "  No,"  said  the  other,  "  I 
have  no  inclination  to  build  a  clock-house."  The 
bell,  or  Clock  Tower,  was  pulled  down  in  1715, 
when  the  ancient  bell  was  granted  to  the  dean 
and  chapter  of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  and  some  time 
afterward  was  recast.  On  it  was  inscribed  the 
following  doggerel  distich  :  — 

"  Tertius  aptavit  me  rex,  Edwardque  vocavit, 
Sancti  decore  Edwardi  signaretur  ut  hora,"  — 

signifying  that  the  king  gave  the  bell  and  called 
it  Edward,  in  order  that  the  hours  of  the  neigh- 
bouring Abbey  of  St.  Edward  the  Confessor  might 
be  properly  denoted.  In  the  reign  of  Queen  Eliza- 
beth the  name  of  the  bell  seems  to  have  been 
changed  to  Tom  of  Westminster,  at  least  if  we 
may  j  udge  by  the  following  couplet : 

"  Hark !  Harry,  'tis  late,  'tis  time  to  be  gone, 
For  Westminster  Tom,  by  my  faith,  strikes  one." 

In  New  Palace  Yard,  extending  from  the  north- 
east corner  of  Westminster  Hall  in  the  direction  of 


352  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

the  bridge,  stood  the  old  buildings  of  the  Exchequer, 
containing  the  despotic  and  terrible  Star  Chamber, 
with  its  thousand  dark  but  interesting  associa- 
tions. The  name  is  generally  supposed  to  have 
been  derived  from  the  stars  with  which  the  ceiling 
was  anciently  decorated ;  but,  according  to  Black- 
stone,  it  was  from  the  Starra  (corrupted  from  the 
Hebrew  Shetar),  or  Jewish  covenants,  which  were 
deposited  here  by  Richard  the  First.  According 
to  some  accounts,  the  Painted  Chamber  was  the 
original  Star  Chamber  in  the  time  of  the  Norman 
kings.  At  all  events,  the  Exchequer  buildings, 
which  contained  the  Star  Chamber  of  Queen  Eliza- 
beth and  Charles  the  First,  dated  no  further  back 
than  the  reign  of  the  former  sovereign.  Well 
does  the  author  remember  the  interesting  old 
apartment,  with  its  panelled  walls,  and  its  curious 
oaken  roof  divided  into  compartments,  and  orna- 
mented with  roses,  portcullises,  and  fleurs-de-lis. 
It  was  pulled  down  within  the  last  few  years ; 
when,  to  the  disgrace  of  the  authorities,  the  old 
panelling  and  the  oak  ceiling,  with  its  interesting 
ornaments,  for  which  many  would  have  given  large 
sums,  and  would  have  preserved  with  religious 
care,  were  sold  as  fire-wood,  or  were  probably 
converted  to  even  some  baser  purpose. 

When,  in  September,  1498,  the  unsuccessful 
attempt  of  Perkin  Warbeck  on  the  city  of  Exeter 
delivered  him  into  the  merciless  hands  of  Henry 
the  Seventh,  the  young,  the  handsome,  and  accom- 


OLD  PALACE  OF  WESTMINSTER.  353 

plished  adventurer  was  conducted  to  London  in  a 
kind  of  mock  triumph  ;  and,  in  order  to  complete 
his  humiliation,  was  placed  in  the  stocks  before 
the  great  entrance  to  Westminster  Hall.  "  Incon- 
tinently," says  Holinshed,  "  Perkin  was  brought 
to  the  court  at  Westminster,  and  was  one  day  set 
fettered  in  a  pair  of  stocks  before  the  door  of 
Westminster  Hall,  and  there  stood  a  whole  day, 
not  without  innumerable  reproaches,  mocks,  and 
scornings  ;  and  the  next  day  he  was  carried  through 
London,  and  set  upon  a  like  scaffold  in  Cheapside, 
by  the  Standard,  with  like  gins  and  stocks  as  he 
occupied  the  day  before,  and  there  stood  all  day, 
and  read  openly  his  own  confession,  written  with 
his  own  hand."  The  following  year  the  unfortu- 
nate youth  was  arrested  in  an  unlucky  attempt  to 
escape  from  the  Tower,  and  was  hanged  at  Tyburn 
on  the  23d  of  November,  1499,  the  companion  of 
his  flight,  the  Earl  of  Warwick,  being  beheaded 
on  Tower  Hill  a  few  days  afterward. 

On  the  same  spot,  in  front  of  Westminster  Hall, 
on  which  Perkin  Warbeck  sat  in  the  stocks,  was 
subsequently  erected  the  scaffold  on  which  per- 
ished, at  the  same  time,  James,  first  Duke  of 
Hamilton,  the  devoted  adherent  of  Charles  the 
First,  the  gay  and  handsome  Earl  of  Holland,  and 
the  gallant  and  high-minded  Lord  Capel.  On  the 
9th  of  March,  1649,  less  than  six  weeks  after 
the  decapitation  of  their  royal  master,  the  three 
prisoners  were  conducted  from  St.  James's  Palace 


354  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

to  the  residence  of  Sir  Robert  Cotton,  at  the  upper 
end  of  Westminster  Hall,  a  house  of  some  note, 
from  so  many  great  and  unfortunate  men  having 
at  different  times  partaken  of  its  melancholy  hos- 
pitality in  their  last  step  to  the  grave.  After  a 
short  respite  which  was  allowed  them  to  prepare 
for  the  fatal  stroke,  they  were  conducted  through 
the  hall  to  the  scaffold.  "  It  was  a  remarkable 
scene,"  writes  Horace  Walpole,  "  exhibited  on  the 
scaffold  on  which  Lord  Capel  fell.  At  the  same 
time  was  executed  the  once  gay,  beautiful,  gallant 
Earl  of  Holland  ;  whom  neither  the  honours  show- 
ered on  him  by  his  prince,  nor  his  former  more 
tender  connections  with  the  queen,  could  preserve 
from  betraying,  and  engaging  against  both.  He 
now  appeared  sunk  beneath  the  indignities  and 
cruelty  he  received  from  men,  to  whom  and  from 
whom  he  had  deserted ;  while  the  brave  Capel, 
who,  having  shunned  the  splendour  of  Charles's 
fortunes,  had  stood  forth  to  guard  them  on  their 
decline,  trod  the  fatal  stage  with  all  the  dignity  of 
valour  and  conscious  integrity." 

The  Duke  of  Hamilton  was  the  first  who  was 
brought  forth  to  execution.  The  judges  were  sit- 
ting as  he  passed  through  Westminster  Hall,  and 
from  their  seat  had  a  full  view  of  the  scaffold. 
Entertaining  hopes  of  a  reprieve  to  the  last,  and 
with  a  natural  longing  for  life,  he  lingered  for  some 
time  in  the  hall,  till  the  Earl  of  Denbigh  coming 
up  to  him  and  whispering  in  his  ear  that  there  was 


OLD  PALACE  OF  WESTMINSTER.  355 

no  hope,  he  forthwith  mounted  the  scaffold,  and, 
after  an  address  to  the  multitude,  submitted  him- 
self to  the  stroke  of  the  executioner  with  great 
fortitude  and  composure. 

The  once  gay  and  graceful  Holland  came  next, 
his  steps  tottering  and  his  cheeks  blanched  by 
severe  illness.  So  weak  was  he  that  it  was  with 
extreme  difficulty  that  he  could  harangue  the  peo- 
ple. Walker,  in  his  "  History  of  Independency," 
supplies  us  with  some  interesting  particulars  relat- 
ing to  his  last  illness.  "  After  some  divine  con- 
ference with  Mr.  Bolton  for  near  a  quarter  of  an 
hour,  and  having  spoken  to  a  soldier  that  took  him 
prisoner,  and  others,  he  embraced  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  Beecher,  and  took  his  leave  of  him,  after 
which  he  came  to  Mr.  Bolton,  and  having  embraced 
him,  and  returned  him  many  thanks  for  his  great 
pains  and  affection  to  his  soul,  he  prepared  him- 
self for  the  block ;  whereupon,  turning  to  the 
executioner,  he  said,  '  Here,  my  friend,  let  my 
clothes  and  my  body  alone  ;  there  is  ten  pounds 
for  thee ;  that  is  better  than  my  clothes.  I  am 
now  fit.  And  when  you  take  up  my  head,  do  not 
take  off  my  cap.'  Then  taking  farewell  of  his 
servants,  he  kneeled  down  and  prayed  for  a  pretty 
space  with  much  earnestness.  Then  going  to  the 
front  of  the  scaffold,  he  said  to  the  people,  '  God 
bless  you  all ;  God  give  all  happiness  to  this  king- 
dom, to  this  people,  to  this  nation.'  Then  laying 
himself  down,  he  seemed  to  pray  with  much  affec- 


356  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

tion  for  a  short  space ;  and  then  lifting  up  his 
head,  seeing  the  executioner  by  him,  he  said,  '  Stay 
while  I  give  the  sign  ; '  and  presently  after,  stretch- 
ing out  his  hand,  and  saying,  '  Now  !  now  ! '  just 
as  the  words  were  coming  out  of  his  mouth  the 
executioner  at  one  blow  severed  his  head  from 
his  body." 

Lord  Capel  was  the  last  who  was  summoned  to 
the  fatal  stage.  He  passed  through  Westminster 
Hall  with  a  serene  countenance,  greeting  his  friends 
and  acquaintance  as  he  went  along.  Having  as- 
cended the  scaffold,  he  inquired  whether  the  other 
lords  had  addressed  the  people  bareheaded.  Being 
informed  that  such  was  the  case,  he  took  off  his 
hat,  and  delivered  that  fine,  effective  appeal  which, 
more  than  any  other  circumstance  at  the  time,  ele- 
vated the  character  of  monarchy,  and  served  to 
disgust  the  people  with  their  fanatical  and  republi- 
can leaders.  "  Like  Samson,"  says  Heath,  "  he 
did  the  Philistines  more  harm  by  his  death  than 
he  had  done  by  his  life."  Lord  Capel's  demeanour 
at  the  last  afforded  a  beautiful  picture  of  dignified 
innocence  and  Christian  fortitude.  Lord  Claren- 
don says  :  "  After  some  prayers  very  devoutly  pro- 
nounced upon  his  knees,  he  submitted  himself, 
with  an  unparalleled  Christian  courage,  to  the  fatal 
stroke  which  deprived  the  nation  of  the  noblest 
champion  it  had."  "  He  was  a  man,"  says  Clar- 
endon elsewhere,  "that  whoever  shall  after  him 
deserve  best  of  the  English  nation,  he  can  never 


OLD  PALACE  OF  WESTMINSTER.  357 

think  himself  undervalued  when  he  shall  hear  that 
his  courage,  virtue,  and  fidelity  are  laid  in  the 
balance  with  and  compared  with  those  of  Lord 
Capel."  Even  Cromwell,  though  he  refused  to 
save  his  life,  did  honour  to  the  talents  which  he 
feared,  and  the  unbending  probity  which  it  would 
have  been  well  if  he  had  imitated. 

During  the  last  century  New  Palace  Yard,  from 
the  convenience  which  its  open  space  afforded, 
was  frequently  the  scene  where  criminals  were  ex- 
posed on  the  pillory.  When  the  celebrated  John 
Wilkes  had  the  boldness  to  republish  his  famous 
No.  45  of  The  North  Briton,  so  obnoxious  to 
George  the  Third  and  his  ministers,  it  was  in  the 
New  Palace  Yard  that  his  unlucky  publisher,  Mr. 
John  Williams,  a  bookseller  in  Fleet  Street,  was 
made  to  stand  in  the  pillory  on  the  I4th  of  Feb- 
ruary, 1765.  The  result,  however,  was  very  differ- 
ent from  what  the  ministers  either  hoped,  or  per- 
haps anticipated.  Instead  of  pelting  the  offender 
with  filth  and  stones,  the  mob  hailed  his  appear- 
ance on  the  pillory  with  repeated  cheers.  He  was 
brought  in  a  kind  of  triumph  to  and  from  Palace 
Yard,  in  No.  45  hackney-coach,  and  even  the 
driver,  partaking  of  the  general  enthusiasm,  refused 
to  be  remunerated  for  his  trouble.  In  ridicule  of 
the  prime  minister,  Lord  Bute,  a  Scotch  bonnet, 
a  jack-boot,  and  an  axe  were  suspended  near  the 
pillory,  and  after  dangling  there  for  some  time 
a  fire  was  lighted,  the  top  of  the  boot  was  cut  off, 


358  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

and,  together  with  the  bonnet,  was  burnt  amidst 
the  laughter  and  acclamations  of  the  people.  While 
this  was  going  on,  a  gentleman  put  a  guinea  into 
a  large  purse,  and,  handing  it  among  the  crowd, 
collected  no  less  than  two  hundred  guineas  for  the 
benefit  of  the  political  martyr. 

New  Palace  Yard  was  anciently  surrounded  by 
a  wall  in  which  there  were  four  gates :  one  on  the 
east,  leading  to  Westminster  Stairs,  of  which  some 
remains  existed  within  the  last  few  years  ;  another 
to  the  north,  where  Bridge  Street  now  stands ;  a 
third  on  the  west,  taken  down  in  1 706 ;  and  a  fourth 
leading  into  Old  Palace  Yard,  which  was  demol- 
ished as  late  as  1731. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

• 

WESTMINSTER    HALL. 

Its  Erector  —  The  Hall  for  the  Coronation  and  Banquetings  of 
the  English  Kings  —  Extraordinary  Scenes  and  Remarkable 
Trials  Which  Have  Occurred  There  from  the  Time  of 
William  Ruf  us  Till  the  Present  Day. 

WESTMINSTER  HALL  is  perhaps  the  most  inter- 
esting apartment  in  Europe ;  to  an  Englishman  it 
is  unquestionably  so.  Who  is  there,  indeed,  whose 
philosophy  is  so  cold,  or  whose  heart  is  so  dead  to 
every  poetical  or  romantic  feeling,  as  to  be  able 
to  cross,  without  deep  emotion,  the  threshold  of 
the  colossal  banqueting-room  of  the  Norman  kings, 
associated  as  it  is  in  our  minds  with  so  many 
scenes  of  gorgeous  splendour,  so  many  events  of 
tragical  interest  ?  Here  our  early  monarchs  sat 
personally  in  judgment  on  their  subjects  ;  here,  on 
its  vastest  scale,  was  displayed  the  rude  but  mag- 
nificent hospitality  of  the  Middle  Ages ;  here  a 
long  line  of  sovereigns  —  the  Norman,  the  Tudor, 
the  Plantagenet,  and  the  Stuart  —  have  sat  at 
their  gorgeous  coronation  banquets  ;  here  Edward 
the  Third  embraced  his  gallant  son,  when  the 
"  sable  warrior "  returned  from  the  bloody  field 
359 


360  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

of  Poictiers  conducting  a  monarch  as  his  captive ; 
and  here  were  the  trial-scenes  of  the  young  and 
accomplished  Essex,  the  stately  Strafford,  and  the 
ill-fated  Charles  the  First ! 

Westminster  Hall,  it  is  almost  needless  to  re- 
mark, was  originally  erected  by  William  Rufus,  to 
serve  as  a  banqueting-hall  to  the  palace  of  the 
Confessor.  It  was  completed  in  1099,  in  which 
year  we  find  him  keeping  his  court  beneath  its 
roof.  "  In  this  year,"  writes  Matthew  Paris, 
"King  William,  on  returning  from  Normandy 
into  England,  held,  for  the  first  time,  his  court 
in  the  new  hall  at  Westminster.  Having  entered 
to  inspect  it,  with  a  large  military  retinue,  some 
persons  remarking  that  it  was  too  large,  and 
larger  than  it  should  have  been,  the  king  replied 
that  'it  was  not  half  so  large  as  it  should  have 
been,'  and  that  it  was  only  a  bedchamber  in  com- 
parison with  the  building  which  he  intended  to 
make."  This  same  year,  according  to  Stow,  Will- 
iam Rufus  kept  his  Whitsuntide  in  the  palace  of 
Westminster,  and  feasted  in  his  new  banqueting- 
hall  "very  royally." 

Henry  the  First,  King  Stephen,  and  Henry  the 
Second  were  severally  crowned  in  the  abbey  of 
Westminster,  and  doubtless  kept  their  coronation 
feasts  in  the  old  hall.  Here  also  Henry,  the  eldest 
son  of  Henry  the  Second,  was  crowned  in  the  life- 
time of  his  father,  and  the  banquet  in  Westmin- 
ster Hall,  which  followed,  is  rendered  not  a  little 


. 


View  inside  Westminster  Hall. 

Photo-etching  from  an  old  engraving. 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  361 

remarkable  from  the  following  scene,  as  described 
by  one  of  the  old  chroniclers.  "The  king,"  says 
Holinshed,  "  upon  that  day  served  his  son  at  the 
table  as  sewer,  bringing  up  the  boar's  head,  with 
trumpets  before  it,  according  to  the  usual  manner. 
Whereupon  the  young  man,  conceiving  a  pride  in 
his  breast,  beheld  the  standers-by  with  a  more 
stately  countenance  than  he  had  wont.  The  Arch- 
bishop of  York,  who  sat  by  him,  marking  his 
behaviour,  turned  unto  him,  and  said,  '  Be  glad, 
my  good  son,  there  is  not  another  prince  in  the 
world  hath  such  a  sewer  at  his  table.'  To  this  the 
new  king  answered,  as  it  were  disdainfully,  '  Why 
dost  thou  marvel  at  that  ?  My  father,  in  doing  it, 
thinketh  it  not  more  than  becometh  him  ;  he  being 
of  princely  blood  only  on  the  mother's  side,  serveth 
me  that  am  a  king  born,  having  both  a  king  to  my 
father,  and  a  queen  to  my  mother.'  Thus  the 
young  man,  of  an  evil  and  perverse  nature,  was 
puffed  up  with  pride  by  his  father's  unseemly 
doing." 

During  the  reigns  of  Richard  the  First  and 
King  John  we  find  no  particular  notices  of  West- 
minster Hall,  but,  as  both  these  monarchs  were 
crowned  and  kept  their  courts  at  Westminster, 
they  must  often  have  banqueted  beneath  its  roof. 

On  the  occasion  of  his  marriage,  in  January, 
1236,  with  Eleanor,  daughter  of  Raymond,  Earl 
of  Provence,  and  her  subsequent  coronation,  we 
find  Henry  the  Third  giving  a  magnificent  banquet 


362  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

in  Westminster  Hall.  "  At  the  nuptial  feast,"  says 
Matthew  Paris,  "  were  assembled  such  a  multitude 
of  the  nobility  of  both  sexes,  such  numbers  of 
the  religious,  and  such  a  variety  of  stage-players, 
that  the  city  of  London  could  scarcely  contain 
them.  In  the  procession,  the  Earl  of  Chester 
bore  before  the  king  the  sword  of  Edward  the 
Confessor.  The  High  Marshal  of  England  (the 
Earl  of  Pembroke)  carried  a  rod  before  the  king, 
both  in  the  church  and  in  the  hall,  making  way 
for  the  king,  and  arranging  the  guests  at  the  royal 
table.  The  barons  of  the  Cinque  Ports  bare  a 
canopy  over  the  king,  supported  on  five  spears. 
The  Earl  of  Leicester  held  water  for  the  king  to 
wash  before  dinner,  and  the  Earl  of  Warenne 
officiated  as  the  royal  cup-bearer,  in  lieu  of  the 
Earl  of  Arundel,  who  was  a  youth  not  yet 
knighted.  Master  Michael  Belet  had  the  office 
of  butler ;  the  Earl  of  Hereford  was  marshal  of 
the  king's  household  ;  William  de  Beauchamp  was 
almoner.  The  justiciary  of  the  forests  removed 
the  dishes  from  the  king's  table ;  the  citizens  of 
London  poured  the  wine  abundantly  into  precious 
cups ;  the  citizens  of  Winchester  had  oversight 
of  the  kitchen  and  napery.  The  chancellor,  the 
chamberlain,  the  marshal,  and  the  constable,  took 
their  seats  with  reference  to  their  offices  ;  and  all 
the  barons  in  the  order  of  their  creation.  The 
solemnity  was  resplendent  with  the  clergy  and 
knights,  properly  placed ;  but  how  shall  I  describe 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  363 

the  dainties  of  the  table,  and  the  abundance  of 
diverse  liquors,  the  quantity  of  game,  the  vari- 
ety of  fish,  the  multitude  of  jesters,  and  the  atten- 
tion of  the  waiters  ?  Whatever  the  world  pours 
forth  of  pleasure  and  glory  was  there  especially 
displayed." 

Such  was  a  royal  banquet  in  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury !  The  same  year  we  find  the  king  entertain- 
ing six  thousand  poor  men,  women,  and  children,  in 
Westminster  Hall  and  the  adjoining  apartments  of 
the  palace. 

In  1241  Henry  entertained  the  Pope's  legate, 
Otho,  with  great  magnificence  in  Westminster 
Hall,  and,  on  the  5th  of  January  following  (St. 
Edward's  Day),  he  feasted  a  vast  assemblage  of 
guests,  consisting  chiefly  of  the  citizens  of  Lon- 
don, who,  it  appears,  were  summoned  to  attend  by 
a  royal  edict,  subject  to  a  penalty  of  one  hundred 
shillings  if  they  absented  themselves.  The  last 
entertainment  which  we  shall  mention  in  this  reign 
was  a  magnificent  one  given  by  the  king  in  West- 
minster Hall,  in  1244,  in  honour  of  the  marriage 
of  his  brother,  Richard,  Earl  of  Cornwall,  with 
Cincia  of  Provence,  sister  of  the  Queens  of  France 
and  England.  According  to  Matthew  Paris,  as 
many  as  thirty  thousand  dishes  were  prepared  for 
the  nuptial  banquet. 

A  few  years  afterward,  Westminster  Hall  pre- 
sented an  extraordinary  and  almost  awful  scene. 
Henry  the  Third  had  so  often  broken  faith  with 


364  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

his  barons  and  his  people ;  so  often,  when  he  re- 
quired their  assistance,  had  he  made  solemn  vows 
to  regard  the  ancient  charters  of  the  realm,  and  so 
often  had  he  disregarded  them  in  the  hour  of  his 
prosperity,  that  when,  in  1253,  he  was  reduced  to 
the  last  extremity  for  want  of  money,  it  was  only 
by  agreeing  to  bind  himself  by  an  obligation  far 
more  awful  and  solemn  than  any  of  his  preceding 
ones,  and  by  consenting  to  submit  to  excommuni- 
cation and  all  the  anathemas  of  the  Church,  in  the 
events  of  his  failing  in  his  engagement,  that  the 
barons  and  clergy  were  induced  to  aid  him  in  his 
distress.  It  was  decided  that  the  ceremony  should 
take  place  in  Westminster  Hall,  under  every  cir- 
cumstance which  could  tend  to  make  it  solemn  and 
impressive.  There  were  assembled  there,  on  the 
3d  of  May,  the  king,  the  nobles,  the  prelates,  and 
the  heads  of  the  great  ecclesiastical  establishments  ; 
the  churchmen,  clad  in  their  ecclesiastical  robes, 
bearing  each  a  lighted  taper  in  his  hand.  For 
some  reason  a  lighted  taper  was  offered  to  the 
king,  but  he  declined  it,  saying  pointedly,  "  he  was 
no  priest ; "  while  at  the  same  time,  to  evince  his 
sincerity,  he  offered  to  "keep  his  hand  upon  his 
breast  during  the  proceedings."  The  scene  which 
followed  may  be  more  readily  imagined  than  de- 
scribed. In  the  midst  of  a  solemn  silence,  the 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury  arose  from  his  seat,  and 
in  the  most  awful  language  invoked  the  curse  of 
Heaven  on  whomsoever  should  hereafter  infringe 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  365 

the  charters  of  the  realm.  At  the  moment  when 
the  frightful  anathema  was  passing  his  lips,  the 
torches  were  thrown  smoking  and  stinking  on 
the  ground,  and  the  voice  of  the  archbishop  rose 
to  a  louder  pitch ;  "  thus,"  he  said,  "  be  extin- 
guished, and  stink,  and  smoke  in  hell,  all  those 
who  dare  to  violate  the  charters  of  the  kingdom." 
After  a  short  pause,  the  king  himself  arose,  and, 
with  his  hand  still  on  his  heart,  exclaimed,  in  a 
no  less  solemn  manner,  "  So  may  God  help  me, 
I  will  inviolably  observe  all  these  things,  as  I  am 
a  man  and  a  Christian,  and  a  knight,  and  a  crowned 
and  anointed  king."  It  is  possible  Henry  may 
have  been  sincere  at  the  moment,  but  how  indif- 
ferently he  kept  his  solemn  oath,  history  has  left 
us  a  melancholy  record. 

The  only  other  incident  of  any  interest  con- 
nected with  Westminster  Hall,  in  the  reign  of 
Henry  the  Third,  was  an  extraordinary  and  bloody 
fracas,  arising  out  of  an  ancient  feud,  which  took 
place  in  1269,  between  John  de  Warenne,  Earl  of 
Surrey,  and  Sir  Alan  la  Zouche,  one  of  the  king's 
justices,  in  which  both  of  these  powerful  subjects 
appear  to  have  taken  a  part  with  their  followers. 
Sir  Alan,  being  closely  pressed  by  his  enemies, 
flew  toward  the  king's  chamber,  and  had  nearly 
reached  it,  when  he  was  pierced  by  the  swords  of 
his  pursuers.  The  latter  immediately  took  boat, 
and  flew  to  seek  a  place  of  concealment  on  the 
other  side  of  the  river,  leaving  their  victim  welter- 


366  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

ing  in  his  blood.  His  groans  soon  attracted  the 
ear  of  the  king  and  his  son,  Prince  Edward,  who 
were  naturally  not  a  little  indignant  at  so  gross 
an  outrage  having  been  perpetrated  so  near  the 
domestic  apartments  of  the  sovereign.  It  affords 
a  curious  feature  of  the  manners  of  the  times, 
that  De  Warenne  immediately  sought  refuge  and 
fortified  himself  in  his  castle  of  Reigate ;  nor  was 
it  by  the  force  of  the  royal  authority,  but  through 
the  mediation  of  the  Duke  of  Gloucester,  and 
Henry,  son  of  the  King  of  Almaine,  that  he  was 
induced  to  submit  to  the  king's  mercy.  The  earl 
escaped  with  a  fine  and  penance,  but  Sir  Alan  was 
less  fortunate,  and  died  shortly  afterward  of  the 
effect  of  his  wounds. 

On  the  death  of  Henry  the  Third,  which  took 
place  on  the  i6th  of  November,  1272,  we  find  his 
son  proclaimed  with  all  due  honours  in  West- 
minster Hall,  as  King  Edward  the  First.  Here 
also,  on  the  I9th  of  August,  1274,  on  the  occasion 
of  his  coronation  and  his  marriage  with  Eleanor 
of  Castile,  we  find  the  young  and  chivalrous  mon- 
arch celebrating  the  double  ceremony  in  the  hall 
of  Rufus,  with  extraordinary  magnificence.  The 
nuptial  banquet,  moreover,  was  graced  by  the  pres- 
ence of  Alexander,  King  of  Scotland,  and  the 
chosen  of  the  Scottish  nobility.  "The  King  of 
Scotland,"  says  the  old  chronicler,  Henry  de 
Knyghton,  "was  accompanied  by  one  hundred 
knights  on  horseback,  who,  as  soon  as  they  had 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  367 

dismounted,  turned  their  steeds  loose  for  any  one 
to  catch  and  keep  that  thought  proper.  Then 
came  Edmund,  Earl  of  Cornwall,  the  king's 
nephew,  and  the  Earls  of  Gloucester,  Pembroke, 
and  Warenne,  each  having  in  their  company  a 
hundred  illustrious  knights,  wearing  their  lord's 
armour;  and  when  they  had  alighted  from  their 
palfreys,  they  also  set  them  free,  that  whoever 
chose  might  take  them  unquestioned.  And  the 
aqueduct  in  Cheapside  poured  forth  white  wine 
and  red,  like  water,  for  those  who  would  to  drink 
at  pleasure." 

Edward  the  Second  was  crowned  at  West- 
minster on  the  25th  of  February,  1308,  and 
Westminster  Hall  was  apparently  the  scene  of  the 
magnificent  banquetings  and  rejoicings  which  ac- 
companied that  event,  as  well  as  that  of  his  mar- 
riage, the  same  year,  with  Isabella,  the  beautiful 
daughter  of  Philip  le  Bel,  King  of  France.  When 
the  misconduct  of  the  weak  and  voluptuous  mon- 
arch compelled  his  barons  to  rise  in  arms  against 
him,  we  find  him  a  fugitive  at  one  time  in  the 
north  of  England,  and,  a  short  time  afterward, 
seated  on  his  throne  in  Westminster  Hall,  sur- 
rounded by  all  the  pomp  of  royalty,  and  knelt  to 
by  all  the  magnates  of  the  land.  It  was  only  on 
the  i  gth  of  June,  1312,  that  the  associated  barons 
caused  his  beloved  favourite,  Piers  Gaveston,  to  be 
dragged  from  the  dungeons  of  Warwick  Castle 
to  the  block;  and  yet,  on  the  i6th  of  October, 


368  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

the  following  year,  while  yet  in  his  heart  breathing 
resentment  against  the  murderers  of  his  minion, 
we  find  the  barons  kneeling  submissively  to  him 
in  Westminster  Hall,  and,  in  a  full  assemblage 
of  the  people,  expressing  their  contrition,  and 
acknowledging  his  clemency. 

Four  years  afterward,  while  the  king  was  still 
pursuing  his  career  of  libertinism  and  misrule,  the 
following  remarkable  occurrence  took  place  in 
Westminster  Hall.  "This  year,"  says  the  old 
monkish  historiographer,  Walsingham,  "the  king 
celebrated  the  feast  of  Pentecost  in  the  great  hall 
at  Westminster,  where  as  he  sat  in  the  royal  seat 
at  the  table,  in  the  presence  of  the  great  men  of 
his  kingdom,  there  entered  a  woman  adorned  with  a 
theatrical  dress,  sitting  on  a  fine  horse  with  corre- 
sponding trappings ;  who,  after  the  manner  of 
players,  made  a  circuit  around  the  tables,  and  at 
length  ascended  the  steps  to  the  table  of  the 
king,  and  laid  before  him  a  certain  letter ;  then, 
reining  back  her  steed  and  saluting  the  guests,  she 
retired  as  she  came.  The  king  had  the  letter 
opened,  that  he  might  know  its  contents,  which 
were  as  follows  :  '  His  lordship,  the  king,  shows 
little  courtly  consideration  for  his  knights,  who  in 
his  father's  time,  and  in  his  own,  have  exposed  them- 
selves to  various  dangers,  and  have  spent  or  dimin- 
ished their  substance  in  their  service ;  while  others 
who  have  not  borne  the  weight  of  business,  have 
been  abundantly  enriched.'  When  these  things 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  369 

were  heard,  the  guests,  looking  upon  one  another, 
wondered  at  the  boldness  of  the  woman,  and  the 
porters  or  doorkeepers  were  blamed  for  having 
suffered  her  to  enter ;  but  they  excused  themselves, 
answering  that  it  was  not  the  custom  at  the  royal 
palace  in  any  way  to  prohibit  the  entrance  of  play- 
ers, especially  at  the  solemn  festivals.  Persons 
were  then  sent  after  the  woman,  who  was  easily 
found,  taken,  and  committed  to  prison  ;  and  being 
required  to  tell  why  she  had  acted  in  such  a  man- 
ner, she  truly  replied  that  she  had  been  induced  to 
do  it  by  a  certain  knight  for  a  proper  reward.  The 
knight  being  sent  for,  and  brought  before  the  king, 
in  reply  to  inquiries,  nothing  fearing,  boldly  con- 
fessed himself  author  of  the  letter,  and  avowed 
that  he  had  consulted  the  king's  honour  in  what 
he  had  done.  Therefore  the  knight  by  his  con- 
stancy rendered  himself  deserving  of  the  king's  fa- 
vour, with  abundant  gifts,  and  the  woman  was 
released  from  prison." 

In  August,  1321,  when  the  Spencers  had  suc- 
ceeded Piers  Gaveston  in  the  affections  of  the  weak 
monarch,  we  find  the  barons  of  England  assem- 
bling in  Westminster  Hall,  and  signing  a  sentence 
of  banishment  on  the  obnoxious  favourites,  under 
the  penalty  of  death  should  they  ever  return  to  the 
kingdom.  Lastly,  speaking  of  this  unhappy  reign, 
it  was  in  Westminster  Hall,  a  few  months  before 
Berkeley  Castle  echoed  with  the  shrieks  of  the 
agonising  king,  that  the  barons  proclaimed  him 


37O  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

incapable  of  governing  the  realm,  and  announced 
to  the  assembled  people  that  the  prince,  his  son, 
had  been  invited  to  ascend  the  throne. 

Edward  the  Third  was  knighted  and  crowned  at 
Westminster  on  the  same  day,  the  ist  of  February, 
1327,  and  afterward  kept  his  coronation  feast  with 
great  magnificence  in  the  hall.  Many  years  after- 
ward, when  Edward  the  Black  Prince  returned 
victorious  from  the  battle  of  Poictiers  with  John, 
King  of  France,  as  his  captive,  we  find  Edward  the 
Third  seated  on  his  throne  in  Westminster  Hall, 
in  the  midst  of  his  nobles  and  prelates,  anxiously 
expecting  the  arrival  of  his  august  prisoner  and 
valiant  son.  When  the  trumpets  announced  that 
they  were  approaching  the  hall,  the  king  descended 
from  his  throne,  and  receiving  the  King  of  France 
with  the  same  kindness  as  if  he  had  been  a  neigh- 
bouring monarch  come  to  pay  him  a  friendly  visit, 
led  him  courteously  to  a  banquet  which  had  been 
prepared  for  him.  When  Edward  and  his  gal- 
lant son  subsequently  endeavoured  to  console 
the  French  king  for  his  misfortunes,  the  latter 
answered  with  a  mournful  smile  in  the  words  of  the 
Psalmist,  "  How  shall  we  sing  in  a  strange  land  ?  " 

Richard  the  Second,  the  day  before  his  corona- 
tion, proceeded  in  a  magnificent  procession  from 
the  Tower  to  Westminster,  where  he  took  posses- 
sion of  the  palace  of  his  ancestors.  "  On  arriving 
at  Westminster,"  we  are  told,  "  with  the  princes, 
nobles,  and  many  others  of  his  lieges,  he  entered 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  371 

the  great  hall  of  the  palace,  and  going  up  to  the 
high  marble  table,  he  asked  for  wine,  which  being 
'  brought  he  drank  of  it,  as  did  others  standing 
around  him.  The  king  then  retired  with  the 
princes  and  his  family  to  his  chamber,  where  he 
supped  royally,  and,  having  bathed  becomingly, 
retired  to  rest."  The  following  day,  the  i6th  of 
July,  1377,  Richard  was  crowned  with  great  state 
in  the  abbey,  and  after  the  ceremony  partook  of 
the  usual  banquet  in  the  hall ;  the  nobility,  the 
prelates,  and  the  great  officers  of  state,  being 
seated  at  different  tables.  "  During  the  entertain- 
ment," we  are  told,  "  the  lord  steward,  the  constable, 
and  the  earl  marshal,  with  certain  knights  deputed 
by  them,  rode  about  the  hall  on  noble  coursers,  to 
preserve  peace  and  order  among  the  people.  All 
that  time,  the  Earl  of  Derby  stood  at  the  king's 
right  hand,  holding  the  principal  sword  drawn  from 
its  scabbard.  The  Earl  of  Stafford  performed  the 
office  of  chief  carver.  Dinner  being  finished,  the 
king  arose  and  went  to  his  chamber,  with  the  prel- 
ates, great  men,  and  nobles,  before  mentioned. 
Then  the  great  men,  knights,  and  lords  passed  the 
remainder  of  the  day  until  supper-time,  in  shows, 
dances,  and  solemn  minstrelsy  ;  and  having  supped, 
the  king  and  the  others  retired  to  rest,  fatigued 
with  their  exertions  in  the  ceremonies  of  this  mag- 
nificent festival."  At  this  early  period,  we  find 
Sir  John  Dymoke,  as  possessor  of  the  manor  of 
Scrivelsby,  in  Lincolnshire,  claiming  to  be  the 


372  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

king's  champion,  riding  into  Westminster  Hall  in 
full  armour.  "  Having  furnished  himself,"  says 
Walsingham,  "with  the  best  suit  of  armour  save 
one,  and  the  best  steed  save  one,  from  the  king's 
armoury  and  stable,  he  proceeded  on  horseback, 
with  two  attendants,  the  one  bearing  his  spear,  and 
the  other  his  shield,  to  the  abbey  gates,  there  to 
await  the  ending  of  the  mass.  But  the  lord  mar- 
shal, the  lord  seneschal,  and  the  lord  constable, 
being  all  mounted  on  their  great  horses,  went  to 
the  knight  and  told  him  that  he  should  not  have 
come  so  soon  ;  wherefore,  he  had  better  retire,  and, 
laying  aside  his  weighty  armour,  rest  himself  until 
the  proper  time."  The  champion,  it  appears,  took 
their  advice,  and  withdrew  till  the  king  took  his 
seat  at  the  banquet  in  the  hall. 

When  the  associated  barons,  headed  by  the 
king's  uncle,  Thomas  of  Woodstock,  Duke  of 
Gloucester,  took  up  arms,  in  1387,  against  the 
unfortunate  Richard  the  Second,  we  find  them 
assembled  with  their  armed  retainers  in  Westmin- 
ster Hall,  waiting  for  an  interview  with  their  sov- 
ereign. It  is  curious  to  find,  in  the  records  of 
the  days  of  chivalry,  how  extraordinary  was  the 
respect  paid  by  the  nobles  to  their  king,  even 
when  they  had  drawn  their  swords  from  the  scab- 
bard, and  were  prepared  to  encounter  him  on  the 
battle-field.  On  this  occasion,  we  are  told  by 
Holinshed,  "  the  king,  when  he  heard  they  were 
come,  apparelled  himself  in  his  kingly  robes,  and, 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  373 

with  his  sceptre  in  his  hand,  came  into  the  great 
hall  at  Westminster.  The  lords,  as  soon  as  they 
had  sight  of  him,  made  him  their  humble  obei- 
sance, and  went  forward  till  they  came  to  the 
nether  steps  going  up  to  the  king's  seat  of  state, 
where  they  made  their  second  obeisance,  and  then 
the  king  gave  them  countenance  to  come  nearer 
to  him."  This  display  of  courtesy,  however,  was 
but  the  prelude  to  a  storm  ;  the  barons  loudly 
denouncing  Robert  de  Vere,  Duke  of  Ireland,  and 
others  of  the  king's  council,  as  traitors  to  their 
sovereign  and  their  country,  and  concluding  by 
throwing  down  their  gauntlets  on  the  floor,  and 
offering  to  prove  the  truth  of  what  they  asserted 
by  single  combat.  With  some  difficulty  they  were 
pacified  by  Richard,  who  solemnly  promised  to  sum- 
mon a  Parliament,  when  their  grievances  should  be 
taken  into  full  consideration.  Having  thus  suc- 
ceeded in  lulling  the  storm,  at  least  for  a  season, 
the  king  could  not  altogether  conceal  the  indigna- 
tion which  he  felt  at  the  barons  having  the  bold- 
ness to  appear  in  arms  in  his  presence.  "  Have  I 
not  armed  men,"  he  said,  "  sufficient  to  have  beaten 
you  down,  compassed  about  like  deer  in  a  toil,  if 
I  would  ?  Truly,  in  this  behalf,  I  make  no  more 
account  of  you  than  of  the  vilest  scullion  in  my 
kitchen."  During  this  remarkable  scene  it  is  not 
a  little  curious  to  find  the  haughty  barons,  includ- 
ing even  the  king's  uncle,  the  Duke  of  Gloucester, 
kneeling  the  whole  time  before  the  king.  At  the 


374  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

conclusion,  however,  of  the  interview,  he  raised 
them  from  their  knees  with  great  courtesy,  and 
led  them  to  one  of  the  apartments  of  the  palace, 
in  which  a  banquet  had  been  prepared  for  them. 

On  the  3Oth  of  September,  1399,  the  day  after 
the  unfortunate  Richard  had  formally  renounced 
the  crown  in  the  Tower  of  London,  Westminster 
Hall  witnessed  a  far  more  memorable  scene  than 
the  foregoing.  The  hall  had  recently  been 
"  hung  and  trimmed  sumptuously ; "  the  prelates 
and  barons  were  in  their  respective  places  ;  the 
throne  alone  was  vacant !  In  the  midst  of  a  pro- 
found silence  the  Archbishop  of  York  arose,  and 
read  aloud  the  renunciation  of  the  king.  His 
abdication  having  been  accepted  by  the  Parlia- 
ment, there  was  again  a  solemn  silence,  when 
Henry  Bolingbroke,  Duke  of  Lancaster,  rising 
from  his  seat,  and  making  the  sign  of  the  cross 
on  his  forehead  and  breast,  said  aloud  :  "  In  the 
name  of  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Ghost, 
I,  Henry  of  Lancaster,  challenge  this  realm  of 
England  and  the  crown,  with  all  the  members 
and  appurtenances,  as  that  I  am  descended  by  right 
line  of  the  blood,  coming  from  the  good  lord  King 
Henry  the  Third  ;  and  through  the  right  that 
God,  of  his  grace,  hath  sent  me,  with  help  of  my 
kin  and  of  my  friends  to  recover  it  ;  the  which 
realm  was  in  point  to  be  undone  for  default  of 
governance,  and  undoing  of  good  laws."  This 
speech  was  followed  by  loud  cries  of  "  Long  live 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  375 

Henry  the  Fourth  !  "  In  proof  of  Richard  having 
resigned  the  regal  authority  to  him,  Henry  pro- 
duced the  signet  ring  of  the  abdicated  monarch  ; 
and  the  assembly  having  unanimously  admitted  his 
rights,  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  approached 
him,  and  led  him  toward  the  vacant  throne.  On 
reaching  the  steps  which  led  to  it,  he  knelt  down 
for  a  short  time  in  silent  prayer,  and  was  then 
placed  in  it  by  the  Archbishops  of  Canterbury 
and  York,  amidst  the  renewed  acclamations  of  the 
assembly. 

Shakespeare,  in  his  tragedy  of  "  Richard  the 
Second,"  has  made  the  dethroned  monarch  an 
actor  in  this  memorable  scene : 

"Baling.     Fetch  hither  Richard,  that  in  common  view 
He  may  surrender ;  so  we  shall  proceed 
Without  suspicion. 

Enter  King  Richard. 

K.  Richard.     Alack,  why  am  I  sent  for  to  a  king, 
Before  I  have  shook  off  the  regal  thoughts 
Wherewith  I  reigned  ?     I  hardly  yet  have  learned 
To  insinuate,  flatter,  bow,  and  bend  my  knee ; 
Give  sorrow  leave  awhile  to  tutor  me 
To  this  submission. 

Now  mark  me  how  I  will  undo  myself : 
I  give  this  heavy  weight  from  off  my  head, 
And  this  unwieldy  sceptre  from  my  hand, 
The  pride  of  kingly  sway  from  out  my  heart;. 
With  my  own  tears  I  wash  away  my  balm, 


376  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

With  mine  own  hands  I  give  away  my  crown, 
With  mine  own  tongue  deny  my  sacred  state, 
With  mine  own  breath  release  all  duteous  oaths: 
All  pomp  and  majesty  I  do  forswear; 
My  manors,  rents,  revenues,  I  forego ; 
My  acts,  decrees,  and  statutes,  I  deny ! 
God  pardon  all  oaths,  that  are  broke  to  me  ! 
God  keep  all  vows  unbroke,  are  made  to  thee ! 
Make  me,  that  nothing  have,  with  nothing  grieved, 
And  thou  with  all  pleased,  that  hast  all  achieved ! 
Long  mayst  thou  live  in  Richard's  seat  to  sit, 
And  soon  lie  Richard  in  an  earthly  pit ! 
God  save  King  Henry,  unkinged  Richard  says, 
And  send  him  many  years  of  sunshine  days ! 
What  more  remains?" 

Shakespeare  correctly  places  the  scene  in  West- 
minster Hall,  but  it  is  not  the  case  that  the  abdi- 
cated monarch  was  a  witness  of  the  triumph  of  his 
successor. 

To  the  ill-fated  Richard  the  Second  we  are  in- 
debted for  the  magnificent  old  hall  as  it  now  stands. 
Under  his  auspices  it  was  greatly  strengthened  and 
beautified,  the  present  matchless  roof  having  been 
added,  and  the  exterior  coated  with  thick  walls  of 
stone.  At  its  completion  in  1398,  it  must  have 
presented  nearly  the  same  appearance  which  it 
wears  at  the  present  day.  As  an  apartment,  it  is 
said  to  be  the  largest  in  Europe,  and  its  mas- 
sive timber  roof  is  perhaps  the  finest  specimen  of 
similar  scientific  construction  in  the  world. 

Henry  the  Fourth  was  crowned  at  Westminster 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  377 

on  the  1 2th  of  October,  1399,  and  the  same  day 
presided  at  a  sumptuous  banquet  in  the  hall ;  the 
two  archbishops,  and  several  of  the  other  prelates, 
sitting  at  the  same  table  with  him,  and  Dymoke, 
the  champion,  entering  the  hall  "  mounted  upon  a 
goodly  steed,  barbed,  with  crimson  housings  ;  "  the 
herald,  who  accompanied  him,  vociferating  the  usual 
challenge. 

Henry  the  Fifth,  the  victor  of  Agincourt,  was 
also  crowned  at  Westminster,  but  of  the  sub- 
sequent feastings  and  ceremonies  in  the  hall  we 
find  no  particular  record.  In  142 1,  however,  on  the 
occasion  of  the  coronation  of  his  queen,  Katherine, 
daughter  of  Charles  the  Sixth  of  France,  we  find 
the  ceremony  in  the  abbey  followed  by  a  sump- 
tuous entertainment  in  Westminster  Hall ;  the 
queen  being  seated  on  a  throne  "at  the  marble 
table  at  the  upper  end  of  the  hall,"  the  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury  sitting  on  one  side  of  her,  and  the 
King  of  Scotland  on  the  other.  The  menial  offices 
were  performed  by  the  principal  nobility  ;  the  Duke 
of  Gloucester,  as  "over-looker,"  stood  bareheaded 
before  the  queen,  and  on  her  right  knelt  the  Earl 
of  March  holding  a  sceptre,  and  on  her  left  the 
earl  marshal.  During  the  ceremony,  the  Earl  of 
Worcester  performed  one  of  the  duties  of  the  earl 
marshal,  by  riding  up  and  down  the  hall  "on  a 
great  courser,"  to  preserve  order. 

Henry  the  Sixth  was  crowned  at  Westminster 
in  his  tenth  year,  but,  with  the  exception  of  the 


378  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

closing  scene  of  his  reign,  we  find  it  but  rarely 
connected  with  the  old  hall.  Under  its  roof  it 
was,  in  1460,  that  the  memorable  scene  took 
place,  when  the  assembled  prelates  and  nobles 
declared  that  King  Henry  had  forfeited  the 
crown,  and  that  it  had  descended  by  right  to 
the  Earl  of  March,  afterward  Edward  the  Fourth. 
During  these  proceedings,  Edward  was  seated  on 
the  throne  of  the  Plantagenets,  holding  the  sceptre 
of  Edward  the  Confessor  in  his  hand,  and,  as  soon 
as  they  were  concluded,  the  hall  reverberated  with 
loud  shouts  of  "  Long  live  King  Edward  the 
Fourth ! " 

During  the  reign  of  Edward  the  Fourth,  and 
that  of  his  son  and  successor,  Edward  the  Fifth, 
Westminster  Hall  is  but  rarely  mentioned;  nor 
is  it  till  the  usurpation  of  the  "crooked-backed" 
Richard  the  Third,  that  we  again  find  it  the  scene 
of  regal  hospitality.  It  was  in  this  hall,  on  the 
day  of  his  being  proclaimed  king,  that  Richard 
made  his  famous  Jesuitical  speech  to  his  subjects, 
which  was  intended  to  deceive  and  win  all  hearts  ; 
and  here  also,  after  the  ceremony  of  his  coronation, 
on  the  6th  of  July,  1483,  we  find  him  presiding 
at  a  magnificent  entertainment.  The  procession, 
which  took  place  to  and  from  the  abbey,  must 
have  been  gorgeous  in  the  extreme.  First  issued 
forth  the  trumpets  and  clarions,  the  sergeants-at- 
arms,  and  the  heralds,  bearing  the  king's  heraldic 
insignia;  then  followed  the  bishops  and  abbots, 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  379 

their  mitres  on  their  heads,  and  their  croziers  in 
their  hands,  the  Bishop  of  Rochester  carrying  the 
cross  before  Cardinal  Bourchier,  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury ;  then  the  Earl  of  Northumberland 
carrying  the  sword  of  state ;  the  Duke  of  Suffolk 
with  the  sceptre ;  the  Earl  of  Lincoln  with  the 
cross  and  globe ;  and  the  Earls  of  Kent  and  Sur- 
rey, and  Lord  Lovel,  carrying  other  swords  of 
state.  Immediately  before  the  king  walked  the 
Duke  of  Norfolk,  bearing  the  crown,  and  after  him 
came  Richard  himself,  dressed  in  robes  of  purple 
velvet.  On  each  side  of  him  walked  the  Bishops 
of  Bath  and  Durham  ;  his  train  was  held  up  by  the 
Duke  of  Buckingham  ;  and  the  gorgeous  canopy 
over  his  head  was  supported  by  the  barons  of 
the  Cinque  Ports.  The  procession  was  closed  by 
a  long  train  of  earls  and  barons. 

After  the  procession  of  the  king  had  passed, 
came  that  of  the  queen.  Her  sceptre  was  borne 
by  the  Earl  of  Huntington  ;  the  Viscount  Lisle 
carried  the  sceptre  and  dove,  and  the  Earl  of  Wilt- 
shire, her  crown.  Then  came  the  queen  herself, 
having  "  on  her  head  a  circlet  of  gold,  with  many 
precious  stones  set  therein  ; "  over  her  head  was 
borne  a  "  cloth  of  estate ; "  on  each  side  of  her 
walked  the  Bishops  of  Exeter  and  Norwich,  and 
the  Countess  of  Richmond,  mother  of  Henry  the 
Seventh,  supported  her  train.  After  the  queen 
came  Catherine,  Duchess  of  Suffolk,  the  queen's 
sister,  walking  in  the  procession  by  herself ;  and 


380  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

after  her  followed  a  long  train  of  ladies,  who  were 
succeeded  by  another  train  of  knights  and  esquires. 

At  the  banquet  in  the  hall,  the  king  and  queen 
were  served  on  dishes  of  gold  and  silver  ;  Lord 
Audley  performed  the  office  of  state  carver, 
Thomas,  Lord  Scrope,  of  Upsal,  that  of  cup- 
bearer ;  Lord  Lovel,  during  the  entertainment, 
standing  before  the  king,  and  "two  squires  lying 
under  the  board,  at  the  king's  feet."  As  soon  as 
the  second  course  was  put  on  the  table,  "  the  king's 
champion,  Sir  Robert  Dymoke,  rode  into  the  hall, 
his  horse  trapped  with  white  silk  and  red,  and  him- 
self in  white  harness  ;  the  heralds  of  arms  standing 
upon  a  stage  among  all  the  company.  Then  the 
king's  champion  rode  up  before  the  king,  asking, 
before  all  the  people,  if  there  was  any  man  would 
say  against  King  Richard  the  Third,  why  he  should 
not  pretend  to  the  crown.  And  when  he  had  so 
said,  all  the  hall  cried  'King  Richard,'  all  with  one 
voice.  And  when  this  was  done  anon  one  of  the 
lords  brought  unto  the  champion  a  covered  cup 
full  of  red  wine,  and  so  he  took  the  cup  and 
uncovered  it,  and  drank  thereof ;  and  when  he 
had  done,  anon  he  cast  out  the  wine  and  covered 
the  cup  again  ;  and,  making  his  obeisance  to  the 
king,  turned  his  horse  about,  and  rode  through 
the  hall,  with  his  cup  in  his  right  hand,  and  that 
he  had  for  his  labour." 

If  the  chronicles  of  Westminster  Hall  present 
us  with  many  gorgeous  scenes  of  historical  inter- 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  381 

est,  they  also  afford  us,  in  the  changeful  fortunes 
of  many  an  illustrious  name,  no  less  striking  pic- 
tures of  the  vicissitudes  of  human  life,  and  of  the 
mutability  of  human  greatness.  In  1484,  we  find 
King  Richard  keeping  his  Christmas  in  the  old 
hall  with  great  magnificence,  and  yet  only  eight 
months  were  allowed  to  elapse  before  King  Henry 
the  Seventh  celebrated  his  coronation  feast  in  the 
same  apartment,  wearing,  during  the  gorgeous  ban- 
quet, the  same  crown  on  his  head  which  had  been 
taken  from  the  bloody  corpse  of  his  predecessor 
on  the  field  of  Bosworth. 

The  palace  of  Westminster  appears  to  have  been 
constantly  the  residence  of  Henry  the  Seventh. 
With  the  exception,  however,  of  his  coronation 
feast,  and  of  its  having  been  the  scene  of  his  nup- 
tial banquet,  on  the  occasion  of  his  marriage  with 
Elizabeth,  eldest  daughter  of  Edward  the  Fourth, 
I  am  not  aware  that  the  hall  presents  any  particu- 
lar feature  of  interest  during  his  reign. 

In  June,  1509,  Henry  the  Eighth  solemnised 
both  his  coronation  and  his  marriage  with  Cather- 
ine of  Aragon  at  Westminster,  and,  considering 
his  taste  for  splendour,  the  old  hall  was,  doubtless, 
on  these  occasions  the  scene  of  extraordinary  rev- 
ellings  and  rejoicings.  A  few  years  afterward, 
however,  a  scene  very  different  from  a  nuptial 
banquet  took  place  in  Westminster  Hall.  Accord- 
ing to  Stow,  "  a  great  heart-burning  and  malicious 
grudge  had  grown  amongst  the  Englishmen  of 


382  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

the  city  of  London  against  strangers,  the  artificers 
finding  themselves  much  aggrieved  because  such 
a  number  of  strangers  were  permitted  to  resort 
hither  with  their  wares,  and  to  exercise  handi- 
crafts, to  the  great  hindrance  and  impoverishing 
of  the  king's  liege  people."  Exasperated  by  the 
injury  done  to  their  trade,  the  artisans  —  and  the 
'prentices  of  London  were  sure  to  take  part  with 
them  in  any  such  affray  —  appear  to  have  insulted, 
and  even  beat  a  foreigner  wherever  they  could  fall 
in  with  one.  This  was  in  the  days  when  the  cry 
of  "  'Prentices,  'prentices  !  clubs,  clubs  !  "  was  for- 
midable not  only  to  the  city  authorities,  but  to  the 
government  itself.  At  length  the  excitement  grew 
to  such  a  pitch  that  it  was  commonly  believed, 
according  to  Stow,  that  "  on  May-day  next  follow- 
ing, the  city  would  slay  all  the  aliens ;  insomuch 
that  diverse  strangers  fled  out  of  the  city."  The 
fears  of  the  government  were  now  thoroughly 
aroused,  and  accordingly  orders  were  issued  to  the 
aldermen  of  the  different  wards,  enjoining  them 
that  no  man  should  quit  his  house  after  nine 
o'clock  in  the  evening  of  the  ist  of  May,  but 
should  keep  his  doors  closed,  and  his  servants 
within,  till  the  same  hour  the  following  morning. 
But  for  a  trifling  circumstance  the  dreaded  day, 
"  Evil  May  Day,"  as  it  was  afterward  styled, 
would  probably  have  passed  away  without  blood- 
shed or  riot,  even  though  a  May-day  in  the  reign 
of  Henry  the  Eighth  was  an  important  periodical 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  383 

occurrence,  —  a  favourite  festival  of  dancing  and 
feasting,  when  the  heads  of  the  young  'prentices 
were  bewildered  for  weeks  before  with  visions  of 
arbours  decorated  with  bright  scarfs  and  ribbons, 
of  streamers  waving  from  the  May-pole  tree,  and 
around  it  light  forms  advancing  and  receding  in 
the  dance,  their  bright  eyes  beaming  with  love 
and  pleasure,  and  their  glossy  hair  encirled  with 
the  youngest  flowers  of  the  year.  As  old  Her- 
rick  beautifully  describes  such  a  scene  in  the  days 
of  Queen  Elizabeth  : 

**  I've  heard  them  sweetly  sing, 
And  seen  them  in  a  round ; 
Each  maiden,  like  a  spring, 
With  honeysuckles  crowned." 

Many  a  youth  and  many  a  maiden  were  proba- 
bly disappointed  of  happiness  on  May-day,  1547; 
but,  as  we  have  already  mentioned,  the  day  would 
probably  have  passed  away  with  merely  suppressed 
sighs,  or  perhaps  suppressed  maledictions,  had  it 
not  been  for  a  trifling  occurrence.  One  of  the 
aldermen,  on  going  his  rounds,  chanced  to  find 
two  young  men  playing  at  "  bucklers  "  in  Cheap- 
side,  in  the  midst  of  their  companions,  when  he 
somewhat  peremptorily  threatened  to  send  them 
to  the  compter.  Words  arose  between  them,  and 
in  the  midst  of  the  altercation  the  war-cry  of 
the  city  of  London,  "  'Prentices,  'prentices  !  clubs, 
clubs !  "  disturbed  the  stillness  of  the  night.  In 


384  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

an  incredibly  short  space  of  time  every  door  was 
thrown  open,  and  'prentices,  servants,  and  water- 
men joined  in  the  fray.  Finding  themselves  mas- 
ters of  the  field  of  battle,  and  having  beaten  every 
reinforcement  which  the  lord  mayor  sent  against 
them,  they  proceeded  to  gut  and  destroy  the  house 
of  every  foreigner 'of  whom  they  could  find  any 
trace.  The  work  of  demolition  continued  till  three 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  when,  a  great  number 
having  retired  to  their  beds,  the  lord  mayor  seized 
his  opportunity,  and  captured  three  hundred  of 
the  rioters.  Seven  days  afterward  one  John  Lin- 
coln, their  reputed  leader,  and  about  twelve  others, 
were  hanged,  while  the  remainder,  many  of  them 
women  and  boys,  were  reprieved  at  the  king's 
mercy  ;  the  queen  and  Henry's  sisters,  the  Queens 
Dowager  of  France  and  Scotland,  who  were  then 
in  England,  remaining  on  their  knees  before  the 
king  till  he  promised  to  spare  their  lives. 

If  we  have  wandered  too  long  away  from  the 
old  hall,  it  was  for  the  purpose  of  introducing  the 
curious  sequel  to  the  riots  of  "  Evil  May  Day." 
"Thursday,  the  22d  of  May,"  says  Hall,  "the 
king  came  into  Westminster  Hall,  for  whom,  at 
the  upper  end,  was  set  a  cloth  of  estate,  and  the 
place  hanged  with  arras  ;  with  him  went  the  cardi- 
nal, the  Duchess  of  Norfolk  and  Suffolk,  etc.  The 
mayor  and  aldermen  were  there,  in  their  best 
livery,  by  nine  of  the  clock.  Then  the  king  com- 
manded that  all  the  prisoners  should  be  brought 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  385 

forth.  Then  came  in  the  poor  younglings  and  old 
false  knaves,  bound  in  ropes,  all  along,  one  after 
another,  in  their  shirts,  and  every  one  a  halter 
about  his  neck,  to  the  number  of  four  hundred 
men  and  eleven  women.  And  when  all  were  come 
before  the  king's  presence,  the  cardinal  rose,  laid 
to  the  mayor  and  commonalty  their  negligence, 
and  to  the  prisoners  he  declared  they  had  deserved 
death  for  their  offence.  Then  all  the  prisoners 
together  cried,  '  Mercy,  gracious  lord,  mercy ! ' 
Then  the  lords  altogether  besought  his  Grace  for 
mercy,  at  whose  request  the  king  pardoned  them 
all.  And  then  the  cardinal  gave  unto  them  a  good 
exhortation,  to  the  great  gladness  of  the  hearers. 
And  when  the  general  pardon  was  pronounced,  all 
the  prisoners  shouted  at  once,  and  altogether  cast 
up  their  halters  into  the  hall  roof,  so  that  the  king 
might  perceive  they  were  none  of  the  discreetest 
sort."  In  the  crowd  were  several  of  the  leaders 
of  the  riot,  who  had  hitherto  contrived  to  evade 
justice,  but  who  no  sooner  ascertained  the  favour- 
able turn  which  affairs  were  taking  than  they 
"suddenly  stripped  them  into  their  shirts,  with 
halters,"  and  mingling  with  the  other  offenders 
received  pardon  with  the  rest. 

On  the  1 3th  of  May,  1521,  Westminster  Hall 
witnessed  the  trial  scene  of  that  once  all-powerful 
subject,  Edward  Stafford,  Duke  of  Buckingham, 
Lord  High  Constable  of  England,  and  lineally 
descended  from  King  Edward  the  Third.  Great 


386  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

preparations  were  made  for  the  trial,  which  was 
conducted  in  solemn  state  before  the  Duke  of  Nor- 
folk, sitting  as  lord  high  steward,  and  twenty- 
two  other  peers.  Having  been  found  guilty  of 
high  treason,  and  sentence  of  death  having  been 
passed  upon  him,  the  duke,  in  a  calm  and  dignified 
manner,  addressed  the  court.  "  My  Lord  of  Nor- 
folk," he  said,  "you  have  said  as  a  traitor  should 
be  said  to ;  but  I  was  never  any.  I  nothing  malign 
you  for  what  you  have  now  done  to  me,  and  may 
the  Eternal  God  forgive  you  my  death,  as  I  do.  I 
shall  never  sue  to  the  king  for  life ;  howbeit,  he  is 
a  gracious  prince,  and  more  grace  may  come  from 
him  than  I  desire.  I  beseech  you,  my  lords,  and 
all  my  fellows,  to  pray  for  me." 

"  I  have  this  day  received  a  traitor's  judgment, 
And  by  that  name  must  die ;  yet  Heaven  bear  witness, 
And,  if  I  have  a  conscience,  let  it  sink  me, 
Even  as  the  axe  falls,  if  I  be  not  faithful ! 
The  law  I  bear  no  malice  for  my  death ; 
It  has  done,  upon  the  premises,  but  justice ; 
But  those  that  sought  it,  I  could  wish  more  Christians: 
Be  what  they  will,  I  heartily  forgive  them : 
Yet  let  them  look  they  glory  not  in  mischief, 
Nor  build  their  evils  on  the  graves  of  great  men ; 
For  then  my  guiltless  blood  must  cry  against  them. 
For  further  life  in  this  world  I  ne'er  hope, 
Nor  will  I  sue,  although  the  king  have  mercies 
More  than  I  dare  make  faults.    You  few  that  loved  me, 
And  dare  be  bold  to  weep  for  Buckingham, 
His  noble  friends,  and  fellows,  whom  to  leave 
Is  only  bitter  to  him,  only  dying, 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  387 

Go  with  me,  like  good  angels,  to  my  end ; 
And  as  the  long  divorce  of  steel  falls  on  me, 
Make  of  your  prayers  one  sweet  sacrifice, 
And  lift  my  soul  to  Heaven.  —  Lead  on  in  God's  name." 
—  Henry  ///.,  Act  2,  Scene  i. 

The  duke  was  reconducted  to  the  Tower,  and 
three  days  afterward  was  beheaded  on  Tower  Hill, 
where  he  died  with  great  composure,  attended  by 
the  lamentations  of  the  people. 

In  July,  1535,  the  trial  of  the  wise  and  witty 
Sir  Thomas  More,  for  denying  the  king's  suprem- 
acy, took  place  in  Westminster  Hall.  Notwith- 
standing the  eloquence  of  his  defence,  he  was 
found  guilty,  and  sentenced  to  be  hanged,  drawn, 
and  quartered ;  a  sentence  which  the  king  after- 
ward commuted  for  decapitation,  and  which  was 
carried  into  effect  on  Tower  Hill  on  the  6th  of 
the  month.  An  affecting  scene  took  place  as  this 
great  man  was  being  led  from  the  bar  in  West- 
minster Hall.  His  son  forced  his  way  through 
the  crowd,  and,  falling  on  his  knees  in  a  passion 
of  grief,  besought  the  blessing  of  his  condemned 
father. 

Edward  the  Sixth  was  crowned  in  Westminster 
Abbey,  on  the  2Oth  of  February,  1547,  and  after 
the  ceremony  partook  of  his  coronation  feast  in  the 
old  hall.  The  young  king  himself  tells  us  in  his 
journal,  that  on  his  entering  the  hall  "  it  was  asked 
the  people  whether  they  would  have  him  to  be 
their  king,  and  they  answered,  '  Yea,  yea.'  "  At  the 


388  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

conclusion  of  the  banquet  we  find  him  dubbing 
thirty-five  "Knights  of  the  Carpet." 

On  the  ist  of  December,  1552,  the  great  Pro- 
tector, Duke  of  Somerset,  uncle  to  the  king,  was 
brought  from  the  Tower  to  Westminster  Hall,  to 
undergo  his  memorable  trial  on  charges  of  treason 
and  felony.  "  The  lord  treasurer,  the  Marquis  of 
Winchester,"  says  Hay  ward,  "  sat  as  high  steward, 
under  a  cloth  of  state,  on  a  bench  mounted  three 
degrees  ;  the  peers,  to  the  number  of  twenty-seven, 
sitting  on  a  bench  one  step  lower."  He  was 
acquitted  of  the  charge  of  treason,  but  being  found 
guilty  of  the' felony,  the  object  of  his  enemies  was 
fully  answered,  and  he  was  condemned  to  death. 
On  the  22d  of  the  following  month,  the  duke  was 
led  forth  to  Tower  Hill,  where  he  submitted  him- 
self to  the  stroke  of  the  executioner  with  a  digni- 
fied fortitude  and  resignation. 

The  next  trial  of  any  importance  which  we  find 
taking  place  in  Westminster  Hall,  was  that  of 
Charles,  seventh  Baron  Stourton,  who  was  ar- 
raigned here,  on  the  26th  of  February,  1557, 
for  the  foul  murder  of  two  gentlemen,  William 
and  John  Hart  gill,  father  and  son,  who  were  his 
neighbours  in  Somersetshire.  Having  been  found 
guilty,  and  sentenced  to  be  hanged,  he  was  placed 
on  a  horse's  back,  with  his  arms  pinioned  behind 
him  and  his  legs  tied  under  the  horse's  belly,  and 
thus  conveyed  by  slow  stages  to  Salisbury,  in  the 
market-place  of  which  town  the  sentence  was  car- 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  389 

ried  into  effect.  The  only  distinction  made  be- 
tween him  and  an  ordinary  malefactor  was  his 
being  hanged  with  a  silken  halter. 

Queen  Mary  was  crowned  in  Westminster  Ab- 
bey, and  in  all  probability  kept  her  coronation 
feast  in  Westminster  Hall,  as  did  also  her  sister 
and  successor,  Queen  Elizabeth,  on  the  I5th  of 
January,  1559.  "  She  dined,"  says  Holinshed,  "in 
Westminster  Hall,  which  was  richly  hung,  and 
everything  ordered  in  such  royal  manner  as  to 
such  a  regal  and  most  solemn  feast  appertained." 

During  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  more  than 
one  state  trial  of  deep  interest  took  place  in  West- 
minster Hall.  That  of  Thomas  Howard,  Duke  of 
Norfolk,  who  died  for  his  romantic  attachment 
to  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  presented  an  imposing 
and  magnificent  scene.  The  trial  took  place  on 
the  i6th  of  January,  1572,  George  Talbot,  Earl 
of  Shrewsbury,  presiding  as  Lord  High  Steward  of 
England.  "A  scaffold,"  says  Camden,  who  was 
present  at  the  trial,  "  was  erected  in  the  midst  of 
the  hall,  reaching  from  the  gate  to  the  upper  end, 
where  there  was  a  tribunal  built,  with  seats  on 
both  sides  ;  such  a  sight  as  had  not  been  seen  full 
eighteen  years." 

Being  called  upon  to  answer  the  charges,  the 
duke  strenuously  entreated  to  be  allowed  the  aid 
of  counsel.  Being  answered  by  the  lord  chief 
justice,  that  counsel  was  never  allowed  to  criminals 
charged  with  high  treason,  "Then,"  said  the  duke, 


390  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

"to-day  I  must  plead  for  my  life,  my  estate,  my 
children,  and,  which  is  above  all,  my  honour.  If  I 
die  innocent,  God  will  be  sure  to  avenge  my 
cause."  The  clerk  of  the  Crown  then  asked  him  : 
"Thomas,  Duke  of  Norfolk,  art  thou  guilty  of 
the  crimes  with  which  thou  art  charged,  or  no  ? " 
The  duke  answering,  "  Not  guilty,"  then,  said  the 
clerk,  "  How  wilt  thou  be  tried  ? "  to  which  the 
duke  replied,  "  To  God,  and  to  these  peers,  I  com- 
mend my  cause." 

The  duke  having  been  found  guilty,  the  lord 
steward  asked  him  if  he  had  anything  to  object 
why  sentence  should  not  be  passed  upon  him,  to 
which  he  replied  :  "  God's  will  be  done ;  he  will 
judge  between  me  and  my  false  accusers."  Silence 
being  again  proclaimed,  and  the  edge  of  the  axe 
having  been  turned  toward  the  duke,  Barham,  the 
queen's  sergeant-at-law,  rose  from  his  seat,  and 
called  upon  the  high  steward  in  the  queen's  name 
to  pass  sentence.  With  tears  in  his  eyes,  the  lord 
steward  then  proceeded  to  pronounce  the  dreadful 
sentence  of  the  law.  "Forasmuch,"  he  said,  "as 
thou,  Thomas,  Duke  of  Norfolk,  hath  been  charged 
with  high  treason,  hath  pleaded  not  guilty,  and 
hath  submitted  thyself  to  the  judgment  of  thy 
peers ;  this  court  adjudgeth  thee  to  be  carried 
back  from  hence  to  the  Tower ;  then  to  be  laid 
upon  a  hurdle,  and  drawn  through  the  city  to  the 
gallows,  there  to  be  hanged  ;  and  being  half  dead, 
to  be  cut  down,  thy  bowels  taken  out,  and  after 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  391 

thy  head  is  cut  off,  to  be  quartered ;  thy  head  and 
body  to  be  disposed  of  according  to  the  queen's 
pleasure ;  and  God  have  mercy  upon  thy  soul." 
The  duke  listened  to  these  frightful  details  with- 
out any  visible  emotion.  "  Sentence  is  passed 
upon  me,"  he  said,  "  as  upon  a  traitor ;  I  have 
none  to  trust  but  God  and  the  queen.  I  am  ex- 
cluded from  your  society,  but  hope  shortly  to  enjoy 
the  heavenly.  I  will  fit  myself  to  die.  Only  one 
thing  I  crave,  —  that  the  queen  would  be  kind  to 
my  poor  children  and  servants,  and  take  care  that 
my  debts  be  paid."  The  duke  was  beheaded  on 
Tower  Hill,  on  the  2d  of  June,  1572.  He  died 
pious  and  undaunted,  on  the  same  spot  where  his 
father,  the  accomplished  Earl  of  Surrey,  had  been 
decapitated  twenty-six  years  before. 

A  more  interesting  person  even  than  the  Duke 
of  Norfolk,  was  Robert  Devereux,  Earl  of  Essex, 
the  ill-fated  favourite  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  who  was 
tried  in  Westminster  Hall,  with  his  friend,  Henry 
Wriothesley,  Earl  of  Southampton,  on  the  I9th  of 
February,  1601.  Camden  was  also  present  on  this 
occasion,  and  has  left  us  an  interesting  account  of 
the  proceedings.  The  peers  having  unanimously 
pronounced  a  verdict  of  guilty,  the  clerk  of  the 
Crown  inquired  of  the  prisoners,  as  usual,  if  they 
had  anything  to  offer  why  judgment  should  not  be 
passed  upon  them.  Southampton  addressed  them 
in  a  modest,  pathetic,  and  effective  appeal,  while 
Essex  contented  himself  with  generously  pleading 


392  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

the  cause  of  his  friend.  As  for  his  own  life,  he 
said,  he  valued  it  not ;  his  only  desire  was  to  lay 
down  his  life  with  the  sincere  conscience  of  a  good 
Christian,  and  a  loyal  subject ;  and  though  he  was 
unwilling  that  he  should  be  represented  to  the 
queen  as  a  person  who  despised  her  clemency, 
yet  he  trusted  he  should  make  no  cringing  sub- 
missions for  his  life.  "And  you,  my  lords,"  he 
concluded,  "though  you  have  condemned  me  in 
this  tribunal,  yet  I  most  heartily  entreat  you  that 
you  will  acquit  me  in  your  opinion  of  having  en- 
tertained any  ill  intentions  against  my  prince." 

The  edge  of  the  axe  being  now  turned  toward 
the  prisoners,  the  high  steward  passed  on  them  the 
dreadful  sentence  of  the  law.  At  its  conclusion 
Essex  exclaimed  :  "  If  her  Majesty  had  pleased, 
this  body  of  mine  might  have  done  her  better 
service ;  however,  I  shall  be  glad  if  it  may  prove 
serviceable  to  her  in  any  way."  He  then  requested 
that  a  clergyman  whom  he  named,  Mr.  Ashton, 
should  be  allowed  to  administer  the  holy  sacra- 
ment to  him,  and  attend  him  in  his  last  moments ; 
and,  lastly,  he  begged  pardon  of  the  Earl  of 
Worcester  and  the  lord  chief  justice,  for  having 
detained  them  prisoners  in  Drury  House ;  and 
especially  of  the  Lords  Morley  and  Delawarr  for 
having  brought  their  sons  into  danger.  The  lord 
steward  then  broke  his  wand  and  the  court  broke 
up.  "  I  was  myself  present  at  these  preceedings," 
says  Camden,  "and  have  related  them  with  all 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  393 

fairness  and  impartiality."  Southampton  escaped 
with  his  life,  and  shortly  afterward,  on  the  acces- 
sion of  James  the  First,  obtained  the  Order  of  the 
Garter  and  other  honours.  Essex  was  less  for- 
tunate. He  was  beheaded  in  the  courtyard  of 
the  Tower  six  days  after  his  condemnation ;  dis- 
playing on  the  scaffold  the  same  unaffected  courage 
and  cdlm  dignity  which  he  had  exhibited  at  his 
trial  in  Westminster  Hall. 

James  the  First  and  his  consort,  Anne  of  Den- 
mark, were  crowned  in  Westminster  Abbey,  and 
afterward  sat  at  their  coronation  banquet  in  the 
hall,  though  the  festivities  were  greatly  curtailed 
in  consequence  of  the  plague  which  was  raging  in 
the  metropolis.  Two  years  afterward  the  old  hall 
witnessed  a  very  different  scene,  the  trial  of  the 
handsome  Sir  Edward  Digby,  Guy  Fawkes,  and 
the  other  conspirators  engaged  in  the  memorable 
Gunplowder  Plot,  who  were  conveyed  by  water 
from  the  Tower  to  be  tried  by  a  special  commission 
in  Westminster  Hall. 

A  scarcely  less  remarkable  trial  was  that  of  the 
celebrated  favourite,  Robert  Carr,  Earl  of  Somerset, 
and  his  countess,  who  were  arraigned  before  the 
bar  of  the  House  of  Lords  in  Westminster  Hall 
on  the  24th  and  25th  of  May,  1616,  for  the  murder 
of  Sir  Thomas  Overbury. 

The  countess  was  the  first  who  was  brought  to 
trial,  presenting  the  extraordinary  spectacle  of  a 
young  and  beautiful  woman  being  tried  by  her 


394  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

peers  for  a  foul  and  unnatural  murder.  The  lord 
chancellor,  who  acted  as  lord  high  steward,  rode 
into  Westminster  Hall  on  horseback.  When  the 
prisoner  was  brought  to  the  bar,  doubtless  in  con- 
sideration of  her  sex,  the  ceremony  of  carrying  the 
axe  before  her  was  omitted.  She  stood  pale  and 
trembling,  and  during  the  reading  of  the  indict- 
ment kept  her  face  covered  with  her  fan.  She 
pleaded  guilty  of  the  crime ;  but  beseeched  the 
peers  to  intercede  for  her  with  the  king,  with  so 
many  tears  and  with  such  evident  anguish  of  mind, 
that  the  bystanders,  forgetting  the  horror  of  her 
crime  in  the  touching  sight  of  beauty  in  distress, 
were  unable  to  withhold  from  her  their  commis- 
eration. 

The  following  day  the  earl  was  brought  with 
all  due  solemnity  before  the  same  tribunal  in 
Westminster  Hall.  He  is  described  as  being 
dressed  on  the  occasion  in  "a  plain  black  satin 
suit,  his  hair  curled,  his  face  pale,  his  beard  long, 
and  his  eyes  sunk  in  his  head."  He  was  also  deco- 
rated with  the  George  and  Garter.  According  to 
Weldon,  two  persons  were  placed  behind  him  at 
his  trial,  whose  instructions  were  to  throw  a  cloak 
over  his  face,  and  carry  him  off,  should  he  exhibit 
the  slightest  intention  of  implicating  the  king.  He 
pleaded  innocent ;  but  the  peers  bringing  in  a  ver- 
dict of  guilty,  he  was  sentenced,  with  his  countess, 
to  be  reconducted  to  the  Tower,  and  from  thence 
to  be  carried  to  the  place  of  execution,  where  they 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  395 

were  to  be  hanged  like  common  criminals.  They 
received  at  different  times  several  reprieves  ;  till 
at  last,  in  1624,  about  four  months  previous  to  the 
death  of  James,  they  received  a  full  pardon  for 
their  crime.  In  the  reign  of  Charles  the  First, 
Somerset  petitioned,  though  unsuccessfully,  for 
the  restoration  of  his  estates.  The  guilty  pair, 
during  the  remainder  of  their  lives,  resided  to- 
gether in  a  private  and  almost  obscure  condition. 
Their  former  passionate  love  was  converted  into 
abhorrence,  and  though  inmates  of  the  same  house, 
they  lived  entirely  separated  and  estranged.  Such 
was  the  end  of  these  two  persons,  both  of  them 
gifted  with  extraordinary  beauty  of  person  and  of 
exalted  rank  ;  whose  marriage  had  been  solemnised 
a  few  years  before  in  the  palace  of  Whitehall,  with 
greater  splendour  than  had  ever  been  witnessed  in 
England  at  the  espousals  of  a  subject ;  and  which 
even  the  citizens  of  London,  in  order  to  please 
their  sovereign,  had  celebrated  with  all  kinds  of 
masks,  dancing,  and  rejoicings. 

Charles  the  First  was  crowned  in  Westminster 
Abbey  on  the  2d  of  February,  1626,  and  after- 
ward dined  in  the  hall,  accompanied  by  the  usual 
ceremonies.  We  are  told  that  he  was  habited  in 
a  robe  of  white  satin,  which  was  probably  intended 
to  denote  the  purity  of  his  intentions  ;  but  his 
predecessors  having  invariably  been  robed  in  pur- 
ple at  their  coronations,  it  was  inferred,  we  are' 
told,  by  the  superstitious  that  hereafter  he  would 


396  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

have  to  rely  rather  upon  his  own  virtues  and  integ- 
rity, than  upon  the  greatness  of  regal  power. 
More  than  one  other  incident  occurred  at  the 
time,  which  was  regarded  as  extremely  ominous  to 
the  young  king,  and  which,  considering  the  mis- 
fortunes of  his  subsequent  career,  were  certainly 
singular  coincidences.  That  which  was  thought 
particularly  to  forbode  ill,  was  the  golden  dove 
falling  from  the  sceptre  during  the  coronation 
ceremony ;  while  the  text  selected  by  Sen  house, 
Bishop  of  Carlisle,  for  the  sermon  (Rev.  ii.  10, 
"  Be  thou  faithful  unto  death,  and  I  will  give  thee 
a  crown  of  life,"  etc.),  was  considered  far  more 
suitable  for  a  funeral  sermon  than  adapted  to  the 
gorgeous  ceremonial  of  a  coronation. 

On  the  22d  of  March,  1641,  Westminster  Hall 
witnessed  the  trial  of  the  stately  and  high-minded 
Thomas  Wentworth,  Earl  of  Strafford.  It  was  a 
scene  which,  for  grandeur  and  solemnity,  has  never 
been  surpassed ;  presenting  the  extraordinary  spec- 
tacle of  a  great  and  free  people  bringing  an  unpop- 
ular minister  to  the  bar  of  justice,  in  spite  of  their 
sovereign,  whose  arm  was  powerless  to  save  his 
minister  and  his  friend.  From  the  account  of 
Rushworth,  who  was  employed  to  take  notes  of 
the  evidence,  and  from  others  who  were  present, 
we  are  able  to  form  a  tolerable  conception  of  the 
memorable  scene. 

At  the  upper  end  of  the  hall  was  placed  a  throne 
for  the  king,  and  by  the  side  of  it  a  chair  for  the 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  397 

Prince  of  Wales,  afterward  Charles  the  Second, 
then  in  his  eleventh  year.  The  throne  was  vacant, 
but  the  young  prince,  dressed  in  his  robes,  occupied 
the  place  appointed  for  him.  On  each  side  of  the 
throne  were  erected  temporary  closets,  covered  with 
tapestry,  in  one  of  which  sat  some  French  noble- 
men who  were  then  in  England,  and  in  the  other 
the  king  and  queen,  and  several  ladies  of  the 
court.  In  front  of  this  box  was  a  curtain,  which 
had  been  placed  there  for  the  purpose  of  screening 
the  royal  party  from  observation,  but  Charles  no 
sooner  entered  the  box  than  he  tore  it  down  with 
his  own  hands.  The  queen  and  her  ladies,  we  are 
told,  were  observed  constantly  taking  notes  during 
the  trial. 

Beneath  the  throne,  on  seats  covered  with  green 
cloth,  sat  the  peers  in  their  parliamentary  robes, 
and  near  them  the  judges,  on  "  sacks  of  wool,"  in 
their  scarlet  gowns.  Lower  down  were  ten  ranges 
of  seats  for  the  members  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons. A  bar  covered  with  green  cloth  ran  across 
the  centre  of  the  hall,  and  behind  were  placed  a 
table  and  desk  for  the  convenience  of  the  prisoner, 
and  a  chair  which  he  could  make  use  of  if  he  felt 
fatigued.  Close  to  him  stood  Sir  William  Balfour, 
the  lieutenant  of  the  Tower.  Strafford  employed 
four  secretaries,  who  sat  on  a  desk  behind  him, 
and  on  one  side  of  them  were  the  witnesses  for 
the  prosecution.  Galleries  were  erected  on  each 
side  of  the  hall,  which  were  filled  with  the  rank 


398  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

and  beauty  of  the  land,  and  here  also  sat  apart 
such  members  of  the  House  of  Commons  as  were 
not  actually  concerned  in  the  impeachment. 

The  trial  of  Straff ord  lasted  from  the  22d  of 
March  to  the  I7th  of  April,  nearly  a  month  of 
miserable  suspense ;  less,  however,  to  the  even- 
minded  Strafford  than  to  the  unfortunate  Charles, 
who,  says  Whitelocke,  "  did  passionately  desire  of 
them  not  to  proceed  severely  against  the  earl,"  and 
who  was  himself  so  shortly  to  stand  a  prisoner  at 
the  same  bar  of  justice,  at  which  the  noble  Straf- 
ford now  stood.  On  each  day  of  the  trial,  the  earl 
was  brought  by  water  from  the  Tower,  six  barges 
attending  him,  guarded  by  a  hundred  soldiers. 
On  his  landing  at  Westminster  stairs  he  was  re- 
ceived by  a  hundred  of  the  train  bands,  who  con- 
ducted him  into  the  hall,  and  afterward  stood 
guards  at  the  doors.  Strafford  and  the  peers 
usually  arrived  about  eight  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing ;  the  king  generally  preceding  them  by  about 
half  an  hour.  Principal  Baillie,  who  was  present, 
speaks  of  the  scene  as  "  daily  the  most  glorious 
assembly  the  isle  could  afford ; "  and  he  has  also 
supplied  us  with  some  interesting  particulars  relat- 
ing to  Strafford's  carriage.  "  All  being  set,"  he 
writes,  "  the  prince  in  his  robes  in  a  little  chair  on 
the  side  of  the  throne,  the  chamberlain  and  black 
rod  went  out  and  brought  in  my  Lord  Strafford. 
He  was  always  in  the  same  suit  of  black.  At  the 
entry  he  made  a  low  curtsey ;  proceeding  a  little, 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  399 

he  gave  a  second ;  when  he  came  to  his  desk,  a 
third ;  then  at  the  bar,  the  fore-face  of  his  desk, 
he  kneeled ;  rising  quickly,  he  saluted  both  sides 
of  the  house,  and  then  sat  down.  Some  few  of 
the  lords  lifted  their  hats  to  him :  this  was  his 
daily  carriage." 

The  iniquitous  proceedings,  under  the  false  pre- 
tence of  being  guided  by  law  and  justice,  by  which 
Strafford  was  brought  to  the  block,  are  too  well 
known  to  require  repetition.  He  was  already  a 
prejudged  and  precondemned  man,  and  his  pa- 
thetic and  brilliant  eloquence  filled  the  old  hall  in 
vain.  On  the  last  day  of  his  trial  he  was  attended 
by  his  young  children,  who  were  allowed  to  stand 
by  his  side  at  the  bar.  Regarding  them  with  looks 
of  deep  affection,  and  pointing  toward  them,  he 
thus  concluded  his  beautiful  appeal  to  the  vast 
audience  :  "  My  lords,  I  have  now  troubled  your 
lordships  a  great  deal  longer  than  I  should  have 
done  were  it  not  for  the  interest  of  these  pledges 
which  a  saint  in  heaven  has  left  me."  Here  his 
feelings  overcame  him,  and  compelled  him  to  pause 
for  a  few  seconds.  "  I  should  be  loath,  my  lords, 
—  what  I  forfeit  for  myself  is  nothing ;  but  I  con- 
fess that  my  indiscretion  should  forfeit  for  them, 
it  wounds  me  very  deeply.  You  will  be  pleased 
to  pardon  my  infirmity ;  something  I  should  have 
said,  but  I  see  I  shall  not  be  able,  and  therefore 
I  will  leave  it.  And  now,  my  lords,  for  myself  I 
thank  God  I  have  been,  by  his  good  blessing  toward 


400  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

me,  taught  that  the  afflictions  of  the  present  life 
are  not  to  be  compared  with  that  eternal  weight 
of  glory  that  shall  be  revealed  to  us  hereafter. 
And,  my  lords,  even  so  with  all  humility  and  all 
tranquillity  of  mind,  I  do  submit  myself  clearly 
and  freely  to  your  judgments,  and  whether  that 
righteous  judgment  shall  be  to  life  or  to  death, 

" «  Te  Deum  laudamus,  Te  Deum  confitemur.'  " 

Even  the  enemies  of  Straff ord  beheld  his  digni- 
fied demeanour  and  listened  to  his  lofty  eloquence 
with  admiration,  and  Sir  William  Pennyman,  after 
giving  his  evidence  against  him,  burst  into  tears. 
But  the  strongest  testimony  of  the  sensation  which 
he  created  is  that  of  Whitelocke,  who  was  chair- 
man of  the  committee  of  the  House  which  drew  up 
the  impeachment,  and  who  was  little  likely  to  be 
prejudiced  in  his  favour.  "Never,"  he  says,  "did 
any  man  ever  act  such  a  part,  on  such  a  theatre, 
with  more  wisdom,  constancy,  judgment,  and  tem- 
per, and  with  a  better  grace  in  all  his  words  and 
actions  than  did  this  great  and  excellent  person  ; 
and  he  moved  the  hearts  of  all  his  auditors,  some 
few  excepted,  to  remorse  and  pity."  On  the  I2th 
of  May  following  Strafford  was  beheaded  on  Tower 
Hill,  displaying  on  the  scaffold  the  same  grace  and 
dignity,  the  same  humble  submission  to  the  will  of 
Heaven,  and  the  same  proud  superiority  over  the 
machinations  of  his  enemies,  which,  amidst  the  as- 
sembled thousands  in  Westminster  Hall,  had  drawn 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  401 

the  tear  from  the  eye  of  beauty,  and  had  thrilled 
the  heart  even  of  the  most  acrimonious  republican. 
It  must  have  been  an  extraordinary  scene  to 
those  who  witnessed  it,  when,  on  the  Qth  of  Jan- 
uary, 1649,  a  sergeant-at-arms  rode  into  the  middle 
of  Westminster  Hall,  and,  after  a  loud  flourish  of 
drums  and  trumpets,  proclaimed  to  the  astonished 
crowd  that  the  Commons  of  England  had  deter- 
mined on  bringing  King  Charles  the  First  to  a 
solemn  trial.  But  twelve  days  afterward  West- 
minster Hall  presented  a  far  more  extraordinary 
scene,  when  the  world  beheld  the  amazing  specta- 
cle of  a  great  nation  sitting  in  judgment  on  its 
sovereign.  Apart  from  the  reflections  to  which 
such  a  sight  must  have  given  birth  ;  apart  from 
the  astounding  incident  of  the  descendant  of  a  long 
line  of  kings  being  arraigned  as  a  criminal  in  the 
banqueting-hall  in  which  his  forefathers  had  feasted 
amidst  all  the  pomp  of  power ;  apart,  we  say,  from 
all  these  considerations,  the  scene  must  have  been 
imposing  and  magnificent  in  the  extreme.  At  the 
upper  end  of  the  hall,  on  benches  raised  one  above 
the  other,  and  covered  with  scarlet,  sat  the  king's 
judges,  about  seventy  in  number.  In  the  centre 
of  them  was  a  raised  platform,  on  which  was  placed 
a  chair  of  state  for  the  president,  Bradshaw,  covered 
with  crimson  velvet,  as  was  a  desk  placed  before 
him  for  his  use.  Immediately  in  front  of  Brad- 
shaw, though  with  a  considerable  space  intervening 
between  them,  was  placed  a  chair,  covered  also 


402  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

with  velvet,  for  the  king;  the  space  between 
Charles  and  Bradshaw  being  filled  with  a  large 
table,  covered  with  a  rich  Turkey  carpet,  on  which 
the  mace  and  sword  of  justice  were  laid,  and  at 
which  the  two  clerks  of  the  court  were  seated. 
On  either  side  of  the  hall  galleries  had  been  erected 
for  the  convenience  of  the  spectators ;  and  behind 
and  on  the  right  and  left  hand  of  the  king  were 
arranged  the  soldiers  and  officers  of  the  court, 
Cooke,  the  solicitor  for  the  self-styled  people  of 
England,  standing  on  the  king's  right  hand.  A 
strong  bar  ran  across  the  centre  of  the  hall,  be- 
hind which  were  crowded  the  populace  in  a  dense 
mass  ;  and  for  the  protection  of  the  judges,  the 
leads  and  windows  of  the  hall  were  filled  with 
soldiers. 

At  the  entrance  of  the  king  into  the  hall,  he 
was  received  from  the  custody  of  Colonel  Hacker 
by  the  sergeant-at-arms,  who  conducted  his  Maj- 
esty to  his  seat  at  the  bar.  After  glancing  sternly 
at  the  judges,  and  on  the  galleries  on  each  side  of 
him,  he  seated  himself  without  either  taking  off 
his  hat,  or  showing  the  least  respect  for  the  court. 
Some  minutes  afterward  he  rose  from  his  chair, 
and,  turning  around,  fixed  his  eyes  steadily  on  the 
guards  and  the  dense  mass  of  people  behind  him. 
While  the  indictment  was  being  read  he  sat  un- 
moved, and  preserved  his  usual  calm  and  melan- 
choly expression  of  countenance,  except  when  some 
more  absurd  or  daring  allegation  was  laid  to  his 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  403 

charge,  when  he  was  occasionally  observed  to 
smile. 

During  the  proceedings,  a  well-known  incident 
occurred,  which  created  a  considerable  sensation  in 
the  hall.  The  name  of  Fairfax,  the  lord-general, 
being  called  over,  and  no  answer  being  returned, 
a  female  voice  exclaimed  from  one  of  the  galleries, 
"  He  has  more  wit  than  to  be  here."  Again,  in 
the  course  of  reading  the  charge,  when  the  pro- 
ceedings were  stated  to  be  on  behalf  of  the  people 
of  England,  the  same  mysterious  voice  called  out, 
with  increased  energy,  "  No,  not  the  hundredth 
part  of  them!  It  is  false,  —  where  are  they? 
Oliver  Cromwell  is  a  traitor ! "  The  utmost  con- 
fusion was  the  consequence,  and  Colonel  Axtell 
even  desired  the  soldiers  to  fire  into  the  gallery 
from  whence  the  voice  proceeded.  It  was  soon 
discovered  that  the  offender  was  the  Lady  Fair- 
fax, the  wife  of  the  general,  who  was  instantly 
compelled  to  retire. 

The  behaviour  of  the  president,  Bradshaw,  intox- 
icated with  his  extraordinary  elevation  from  being 
an  insignificant  lawyer  to  be  the  judge  of  his  sov- 
ereign, was  inconceivably  brutal.  At  the  close 
of  the  day's  proceedings,  the  vulgar  insolence  of 
manner  with  which  he  ordered  the  guards  to  re- 
move their  prisoner  ruffled  even  the  calm  temper 
of  Charles.  Pointing  with  his  cane  to  the  mace 
which  was  lying  on  the  table,  "  Sir,"  he  said,  "  I  do 
not  fear  that." 


404  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

The  following  morning  the  king  was  conducted 
from  Whitehall  to  Westminster  by  water.  On 
being  brought  into  the  hall,  his  countenance 
changed  colour,  and  he  seems  to  have  been  much 
affected  by  the  soldiers  receiving  him  with  loud 
cries  for  "justice;"  he  attributed  it  afterward, 
however,  and  perhaps  with  reason,  to  their  being 
instigated  by  their  officers.  "  Poor  souls,"  he  said, 
"  for  a  little  money,  they  would  do  as  much  against 
their  commanders."  It  was  on  this  day  (accord- 
ing to  the  evidence  given  by  Sir  Purbeck  Temple, 
at  the  trial  of  Colonel  Axtell)  that  the  soldiers 
"  did  fire  powder  in  the  palms  of  their  hands,  that 
did  not  only  offend  his  Majesty's  smell,  but  en- 
forced him  to  rise  up  out  of  his  chair,  and  with  his 
hand  to  turn  away  the  smoke ;  and  after  this  he 
turned  about  to  the  people  and  smiled  upon  them, 
and  those  soldiers  that  so  rudely  treated  him." 

As  he  was  quitting  the  hall,  one  of  the  common 
soldiers,  of  a  kinder  nature  than  his  fellows,  as  the 
king  passed  by,  exclaimed,  "  God  bless  you,  sir !  " 
Charles  was  gratified,  and  thanked  him,  but  the 
man's  officer,  overhearing  the  benediction,  struck 
him  severely  on  the  head  with  his  cane.  "Me- 
thinks,"  said  the  king,  "the  punishment  exceed- 
eth  the  offence."  One  person  was  actually  brutal 
enough  to  spit  at  the  meek  monarch.  Charles 
quietly  wiped  his  face.  "My  Saviour,"  he  re- 
marked, "  suffered  more  than  this  for  me." 

On  the  third  day  of  the  trial  nothing  remarkable 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  405 

I 

happened,  except  the  rather  singular  coincidence 
of  the  gold  head  of  the  king's  walking-cane  fall- 
ing off,  which  Charles  himself,  who  was  singularly 
superstitious  even  for  the  age  he  lived  in,  regarded 
as  an  ill  omen. 

On  the  fourth  day,  the  last  and  most  memorable 
of  the  trial,  Bradshaw  entered  Westminster  Hall 
in  his  scarlet  gown,  a  signal  to  the  king  that  his 
doom  was  fixed,  and  that,  before  another  sun  had 
set,  his  doom  would  be  pronounced.  Silence  hav- 
ing been  commanded,  Bradshaw  commenced  a 
vulgar  and  tedious  tirade,  in  which  the  king  was 
accused  of  being  the  author  of  "  all  the  late  unnat- 
ural, cruel,  and  bloody  wars ;  of  all  the  murders, 
rapines,  burnings,  spoils,  desolations,  damages,  and 
mischief  occasioned  by  and  committed  during  the 
said  wars  ;  "  for  which  "  treasons  and  crimes,"  this 
court,  said  the  president,  "doth  adjudge  that  he, 
the  said  Charles  Stuart,  as  a  tyrant,  traitor,  mur- 
derer, and  public  enemy,  shall  be  put  to  death  by 
severing  his  head  from  his  body."  Charles  listened 
calmly  to  the  reading  of  the  sentence,  and,  at  its 
conclusion,  lifted  up  his  eyes  as  if  pleading  for 
that  mercy  in  heaven  which  he  was  denied  by  his 
persecutors  on  earth. 

The  last,  the  only  favour  asked  by  Charles, 
was  permission  to  address  a  few  words  to  his 
judges.  But  even  this,  with  inconceivable  brutal- 
ity and  bad  taste,  was  refused,  and  the  following 
remarkable  dialogue  took  place  : 


406  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

Bradshaiv.  —  Sir,  you  are  not  to  be  heard  after  the  sen- 
tence. 

Charles.  —  No,  sir  ? 

Bradshaiv.  —  No,  sir,  by  your  favour.  Guards,  withdraw 
your  prisoner. 

Charles.  —  I  may  speak  after  the  sentence,  by  your  fa- 
vour, sir,  I  may  speak  after  the  sentence,  ever.  By  your 
favour  — 

Bradshaiv.  —  Hold ! 

Charles.  —  The  sentence,  sir ;  I  say,  sir,  I  do  — 

Bradshaiv.  —  Hold ! 

Charles.  —  I  am  not  suffered  to  speak !  expect  what  jus- 
tice the  people  will  have. 

Before  he  could  say  more,  the  king  was  hurried 
off  by  the  guards.  As  he  passed  for  the  last  time 
through  that  famous  hall,  the  banqueting-room  of 
the  kings  his  ancestors,  he  was  insulted  in  the 
grossest  manner  by  the  poor  hirelings  whom  he 
passed ;  the  soldiers  smoking  their  tobacco  in  his 
face,  and  throwing  their  pipes  before  him  in  his 
path  ;  besides  heaping  on  him  the  lowest  and  most 
virulent  abuse. 

On  the  26th  of  June,  1657,  Westminster  Hall 
witnessed  the  extraordinary  scene  of  the  installa- 
tion of  Oliver  Cromwell  as  Lord  Protector  of  the 
Commonwealth  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland,  on 
the  same  spot  on  which,  a  few  years  before,  he 
had  sat  in  judgment  on  his  unfortunate  sovereign. 
The  ceremony  was  conducted  with  as  much  splen- 
dour as  if  it  had  been  the  coronation  of  one  of 
the  ancient  kings.  On  a  raised  platform,  under  a 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  407 

splendid  canopy,  sat  the  subverter  of  monarchy,  on 
the  same  throne  on  which  the  Tudors  and  Plan- 
tagenets  had  taken  their  coronation  oaths,  and 
which  had  been  brought  from  the  abbey  for  the 
purpose.  When  Cromwell  had  previously  been 
sworn  into  the  office  of  Lord  Protector,  in  1653, 
we  find  him  simply  dressed  in  a  suit  and  cloak  of 
black  velvet,  long  boots,  and  the  only  extraneous 
ornament  a  broad  band  of  gold  around  his  hat. 
But  the  usurper  had  been  amusing  himself  with 
the  trappings,  and  aping  the  airs,  of  royalty,  and 
we  now  find  him  clad  in  robes  of  purple  velvet 
lined  with  ermine,  and  even  holding  the  sceptre 
in  his  hand.  Before  him  was  set  a  table  covered 
with  pink-coloured  Genoa  velvet  fringed  with 
gold,  on  which  were  placed  the  Bible,  the  sword, 
and  the  sceptre  of  the  Commonwealth.  On  each 
side  of  the  hall  were  erected  temporary  galleries, 
in  which  sat  the  Protector's  family,  the  spectators, 
and  the  House  of  Commons  ;  Sir  Thomas  Widdring- 
ton,  the  Speaker,  being  the  only  person  honoured 
with  a  seat  near  the  Protector.  As  soon  as  the 
oath  was  taken,  the  heralds,  after  a  flourish  of 
trumpets,  proclaimed  him,  with  all  the  usual  for- 
malities, Lord  Protector  of  England,  Scotland,  and 
Ireland.  Exactly  three  years  afterward,  the  head 
of  Cromwell,  a  ghastly  object,  was  affixed  to  a 
pole  on  the  roof  of  that  very  apartment,  in  which 
he  now  sat  in  all  the  pomp  and  pride  of  usurped 
power.  By  the  side  of  that  of  Cromwell,  were 


408  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

also  affixed  on  poles  the  heads  of  Ireton  and 
Bradshaw. 

In  the  time  of  Cromwell,  and  up  to  a  later 
period,  it  is  curious  to  find  Westminster  Hall  used 
as  a  fashionable  lounging-place,  where  the  gay  and 
idle  assembled  to  discuss  the  news  and  gossip  of 
the  day.  Here,  too,  books,  and  apparently  all  kinds 
of  articles,  were  exposed  for  sale.  Pepys  especially 
mentions,  in  1660,  buying,  "among  other  books, 
one  of  the  life  of  our  queen,  which  I  read  at  home 
to  my  wife,  but  it  was  so  sillily  writ  that  we  did 
nothing  but  laugh  at  it."  As  late  as  the  middle 
of  the  last  century,  Westminster  Hall,  except 
when  required  for  state  purposes,  appears  to  have 
presented  the  appearance  rather  of  a  bazaar  than 
a  banqueting-hall.  On  each  side  of  it  were  ar- 
ranged bookshelves  and  stalls,  on  which  books, 
mathematical  instruments,  prints,  and  even  arti- 
cles of  ladies'  dress,  were  exposed  for  sale. 

On  the  8th  of  May,  1660,  to  the  great  disgust 
and  abhorrence  of  the  old  Puritan  and  republican 
party,  Charles  the  Second  was  proclaimed  by  the 
heralds  King  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland  in  front 
of  Westminster  Hall ;  the  members  of  the  House 
of  Commons  standing  by,  bareheaded.  On  the 
23d  of  April,  the  following  year,  Charles  was  sol- 
emnly crowned  in  the  abbey,  and  the  same  day 
the  "  merry  monarch "  kept  his  coronation  feast 
with  great  magnificence  in  the  old  hall,  where 
twenty-one  years  before  he  had  listened,  a  mere 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  409 

child,  to  the  dying  eloquence  of  the  ill-fated  Straf- 
ford.  Since  that  time  how  many  revolutions  of  for- 
tune had  the  old  hall  witnessed !  Since  then,  his 
own  unfortunate  father,  the  princely  Hamilton,  the 
gay  and  graceful  Holland,  and  the  virtuous  and 
high-minded  Lord  Capel,  surrounded  by  guards 
and  preceded  by  the  fatal  axe,  had  severally  passed 
under  its  massive  portal,  never  to  cross  its  thresh- 
old again.  Since  then,  the  mighty  Cromwell  had 
sat  there  arrayed  in  purple  and  ermine,  and  now  he 
was  beneath  the  gibbet  at  Tyburn.  The  empire, 
too,  of  the  second  Cromwell  had  passed  away,  and 
he  who,  a  few  months  before,  had  received  a 
greater  number  of  fulsome  addresses  from  the 
people  of  England  than  had  ever  congratulated 
the  accession  of  a  legitimate  sovereign  was  now  a 
proscribed  fugitive  in  a  foreign  land.  And  these 
were  men,  many  of  them,  of  rare  virtues,  or  of 
exalted  talent ;  while  Charles,  without  any  merit 
of  his  own,  was  now  quietly  seated  at  the  gay  and 
gorgeous  banquet,  bandying  wit  and  repartee  with 
the  frolic  Buckingham,  or  exchanging  looks  of 
love  and  gallantry  with  the  bright  eyes  which 
glanced  down  on  the  young  monarch  from  the 
silken  galleries  above. 

James  the  Second  was  crowned  in  Westminster 
Abbey,  with  his  consort,  the  young  and  lovely 
Mary  of  Modena,  on  the  23d  of  April,  1685,  and 
afterward  partook  of  a  "most  sumptuous  and 
magnificent "  banquet  in  the  hall.  At  the  coro- 


410  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

nation  of  the  misguided  monarch  more  than  one 
incident  occurred,  which  his  subjects  regarded 
as  ominous  of  future  ill,  and  they  certainly  were 
remarkable  coincidences.  At  the  moment  when 
the  Tower  guns  announced  that  the  king  was 
crowned,  the  royal  standard  was  blown  from  the 
White  Tower ;  the  canopy  over  the  king's  head 
was  observed  to  be  unaccountably  rent ;  and  in 
one  of  the  London  churches,  a  window,  in  which 
the  royal  arms  were  beautifully  painted,  fell  down 
without  any  apparent  cause.  But  that  which  was 
considered  in  the  last  degree  ominous,  was  the  cir- 
cumstance of  the  crown  tottering  on  the  king's 
head.  It  seems  it  would  have  dropped  to  the 
ground,  had  not  Henry  Sidney,  the  brother  of 
the  lamented  and  high-minded  Algernon  Sidney, 
stepped  forward  and  prevented  its  falling.  "  It 
was  not  the  first  occasion,"  he  said,  "that  his 
family  had  supported  the  Crown." 

During  the  short  and  dark  reign  of  James  the 
Second,  the  only  incident  of  great  interest  asso- 
ciated with  Westminster  Hall  is  the  memorable 
trial  of  the  seven  bishops,  with  the  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury  at  their  head,  —  the  most  important, 
perhaps,  that  ever  took  place  under  its  venerable 
roof.  On  the  day  of  their  trial,  the  2Qth  of  June, 
1688,  the  bishops  were  conducted  from  the  Tower 
to  Westminster  by  water ;  the  banks  of  the  river, 
on  both  sides,  being  crowded  with  an  immense 
mass  of  anxious  spectators,  who  followed  the  barge 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  4 1 1 

with  their  eyes,  and  audibly  offered  up  their  prayers 
for  the  persecuted  fathers  of  the  Church.  On  being 
arraigned  at  the  bar  in  Westminster  Hall,  the  ven- 
erable appearance  of  the  aged  prelates,  the  posi- 
tion in  which  they  stood  as  the  meek  but  undaunted 
champions  of  the  civil  and  religious  liberties  of 
their  fellow  countrymen,  as  well  as  the  crowded 
thousands  who  filled  the  hall,  presented  one  of  the 
most  imposing  scenes  of  which  we  can  form  any 
notion.  After  sitting  up  all  night,  the  jury  made 
their  reappearance  in  the  hall  before  the  anxious 
and  excited  audience.  The  wished-for  verdict  of 
"  Not  Guilty  "  was  returned,  when  the  roof  of  the 
old  hall  rang  with  such  a  universal  shout  of  joy 
as  had  not  often  been  heard  within  its  walls  ;  the 
same  shout  was  echoed  through  the  cities  of  West- 
minster and  London,  and  in  a  short  time  was  echoed 
backed  by  the  army  on  Hounslow  Heath,  where 
the  king  was  dining  with  the  general,  Lord  Faver- 
sham,  in  his  tent.  Being  informed  of  the  cause 
of  the  uproar,  the  bigoted  monarch  appears  to  have 
been  startled  for  the  moment ;  but  while  every 
one  but  himself  was  watching  the  brooding  of  the 
storm,  which  was  so  soon  to  burst  over  his  head, 
he  alone  remained  obstinate,  blind,  and  perverse. 

William  the  Third  and  his  consort,  Queen  Mary, 
were  crowned  in  Westminster  Abbey,  on  the  nth 
of  April,  1689,  and  afterward  banqueted  in  the 
hall  with  the  usual  pomp  and  ceremony,  Dymoke, 
the  champion,  making  the  customary  challenge. 


412  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

"It  was  as  usual,"  says  Reresby,  "a  splendid 
sight ;  the  procession  to  the  abbey  was  quite 
regular,  though  not  so  complete  in  the  number 
of  nobility  as  at  the  last  two  solemnities  of  the 
same  kind.  Particular  care  was  had  of  the  House 
of  Commons,  who  had  a  place  prepared  for  them 
to  sit  in,  both  in  the  church  and  in  the  hall.  They 
had  tables  spread  for  them,  to  which  I,  among 
other  friends,  had  the  honour  of  being  admitted, 
so  that  I  had  a  very  fair  opportunity  of  seeing 
all  that  passed." 

It  was  in  this  reign  that  Peter  the  Great  of 
Russia  paid  a  visit  to  England,  and,  among  other 
places,  was  conducted  by  the  Marquis  of  Carmar- 
then, who  was  appointed  to  attend  him  during  his 
visit,  into  Westminster  Hall.  To  a  despotic  mon- 
arch, what  a  host  of  startling  reflections  was  that 
hall  capable  of  exciting !  But  we  mention  the 
visit  of  the  Czar  rather  for  the  purpose  of  record- 
ing an  amusing  incident.  It  happened  to  be  term 
time,  and  the  vast  area  was,  as  usual  at  such  sea- 
sons, crowded  with  lawyers  in  their  wigs  and 
gowns.  Peter  appeared  to  be  struck  with  the  sight, 
and  inquired  who  these  persons  could  possibly 
be  ?  Being  informed  by  Lord  Carmarthen  that 
they  were  all  persons  of  the  legal  profession,  he 
appeared  quite  confounded.  "  Lawyers  !  "  he  ex- 
claimed, "  why,  I  have  only  two  in  all  my  domin- 
ions, and  I  believe  I  shall  hang  one  of  them  the 
moment  I  get  back." 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  413 

On  the  23d  of  April,  1702,  Queen  Anne  was 
crowned  in  Westminster  Abbey.  The  banquet  in 
the  hall  was  solemnised  with  the  customary  splen- 
dour and  rejoicings,  her  consort,  Prince  George 
of  Denmark,  sitting  on  her  right  hand  under  the 
same  canopy.  Two  years  afterward,  Westminster 
Hall  presented  the  cheering  spectacle  of  being 
hung  with  the  trophies  won  by  the  great  Marl- 
borough  at  Blenheim,  —  that  memorable  battle  in 
which,  out  of  an  army  consisting  of  sixty  thousand 
men,  the  French  and  Bavarians  lost,  in  killed  and 
wounded,  forty  thousand,  including  fifteen  hundred 
officers  and  the  greater  number  of  their  generals. 
The  trophies,  suspended  in  Westminster  Hall, 
consisted  of  no  less  than  one  hundred  and  twenty- 
one  standards  and  one  hundred  and  seventy-nine 
colours.  Since  the  days  when  Hannibal  sent  three 
bushels  of  gold  rings  to  Carthage,  stripped  from 
the  dead  bodies  of  the  Roman  knights  on  the  field 
of  Cannae,  never,  perhaps,  had  so  many  trophies 
adorned  the  triumph  of  a  general. 

We  have  recently  made  a  passing  reference  to 
the  singular  and  checkered  fortunes  of  the  second 
Protector,  Richard  Cromwell.  In  the  reign  of 
Queen  Anne,  when  he  had  arrived  at  a  very  ad- 
vanced age,  a  lawsuit,  in  which  his  daughters  had 
unfortunately  engaged  him,  compelled  him  to  visit 
London  for  the  purpose  of  giving  evidence  at  the 
Court  of  King's  Bench,  Westminster.  While  his 
cause  was  pending,  curiosity  induced  him  to  wan- 


414  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

der  into  the  hall,  which,  half  a  century  before,  had 
been  the  scene  of  his  father's  and  his  own  splen- 
dour. His  reflections  may  be  more  readily  imag- 
ined than  described.  Wandering  on,  he  entered 
the  House  of  Lords,  fraught  with  no  less  strange 
and  painful  associations.  The  peers  happened  to 
be  sitting  at  the  time,  when  a  stranger,  mistaking 
him  for  a  mere  country  gentleman  who  had  been 
attracted  there  by  curiosity,  inquired  of  him  if  he 
had  ever  before  beheld  such  a  scene.  "  Never," 
replied  the  old  man,  pointing  to  the  throne,  "  since 
I  sat  in  that  chair  ! "  When  Richard  Cromwell 
appeared  in  court,  his  venerable  appearance,  and 
the  exalted  position  which  he  had  once  filled,  ap- 
pear to  have  excited  an  extraordinary  sensation. 
The  judge  ordered  him  to  be  conducted  into  a  pri- 
vate apartment  where  refreshments  were  in  readi- 
ness ;  he  directed  a  chair  to  be  brought  into  court 
for  his  convenience,  and  insisted  that,  on  account 
of  his  age,  he  should  remain  covered.  When  the 
counsel  on  the  opposite  side  objected,  for  some 
reason,  to  the  indulgence  of  the  chair,  the  judge 
said,  "  I  will  allow  of  no  reflections  to  be  made,  but 
that  you  go  to  the  merits  of  the  cause."  It  was 
to  the  credit  of  Queen  Anne,  that  she  appreciated 
and  had  the  good  taste  to  express  her  approbation 
of  the  conduct  of  the  presiding  judge. 

The  only  other  incident  of  any  interest  connected 
with  Westminster  Hall  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Anne 
was  the  trial  of  the  celebrated  Doctor  Sacheverel, 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  415 

which  took  place  here  before  the  peers  on  the 
27th  of  February,  1710.  The  sentence  passed  on 
him,  that  he  was  not  to  preach  for  three  years, 
was  regarded  by  the  people  as  a  triumph,  and  was 
hailed  by  them  with  acclamations  almost  as  loud 
as  those  which  had  attended  the  acquittal  of  the 
seven  bishops. 

The  first  of  our  German  sovereigns,  George  the 
First,  was  crowned  and  feasted  at  Westminster, 
the  usual  ceremonies  being  performed,  if  with  less 
popular  enthusiasm,  at  least  with  as  much  magnifi- 
cence as  had  attended  the  coronation  ceremonials 
of  the  Plantagenets  or  the  Stuarts.  The  people  of 
England  had  not  forgotten  their  ancient  kings ; 
they  remembered  that  the  legitimate  heir  to  the 
throne  was  an  exile  in  a  foreign  land ;  half  Eng- 
land was  ready  to  embrace  a  cause  which  was  at 
once  the  rightful  and  the  romantic  one ;  while  the 
devoted  and  enthusiastic  Highlanders  were  ready, 
at  a  moment's  notice,  to  draw  the  claymore  in 
favour  of  the  descendant  of  Robert  Bruce. 

Against  this  tide  of  national  loyalty  and  enthu- 
siasm, the  German  elector  could  oppose  neither 
legitimate  claims  nor  talents  for  government,  not 
even  fascination  of  manner  nor  personal  accom- 
plishments. He  was  alike  ungraceful  in  his  person 
and  inelegant  in  his  address ;  alike  ignorant  in 
literature,  ignorant  of  the  customs  and  manners 
of  the  people  over  whom  he  came  to  rule,  ignorant 
<even  of  their  very  language,  in  which  he  had  never 


416  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

thought  it  worth  his  trouble  to  instruct  himself. 
He  was  alike  a  bad  husband,  a  bad  man,  and  a 
bad  king.  He  had  inherited  from  his  great-grand- 
father, James  the  First,  all  the  worst  qualities  of 
the  Stuarts,  without  their  accomplishments.  He 
could  boast  neither  the  scholarship  of  James  the 
First,  nor  the  dignified  manners,  the  high-bred 
melancholy  look,  and  domestic  virtues  of  Charles 
the  First.  He  was  as  much  a  libertine  as  Charles 
the  Second  without  the  excuse  of  youth  and  pas- 
sion ;  he  kept  almost  as  many  mistresses  as  that 
monarch,  without  their  charms  of  youth  and 
beauty ;  and  he  was  as  debauched  as  Charles, 
without  the  charm  of  his  affability,  or  the  fascina- 
tion of  his  wit.  When  Charles  the  Second,  on  the 
night  of  his  Restoration,  slipped  down  the  back 
stairs  at  Whitehall,  and  crossed  the  water  to  pass 
the  night  with  Lady  Castlemaine,  he  had  only 
that  day  completed  his  thirtieth  year,  while,  when 
George  the  First  made  his  appearance  in  the  British 
metropolis  with  his  hideous  seraglio  of  German 
prostitutes,  he  had  attained  the  mature  age  of 
fifty-five. 

Such  was  the  man  who  was  invited  over  from  a 
petty  German  electorate  to  fill  the  throne  of  the 
Tudors  and  the  Plantagenets,  and  whose  misrule 
and  questionable  rights  led  to  the  famous  insur- 
rection of  1715,  and  conducted  as  criminals  to 
the  bar  of  justice,  in  Westminster  Hall,  those 
noble  and  chivalrous  spirits  whose  enthusiastic 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  417 

loyalty  deserved  a  better  fate  than  exile  or  the 
block. 

On  the  loth  of  January,  1716,  were  arraigned 
at  the  bar  of  the  House  of  Lords,  in  Westminster 
Hall,  the  Earls  of  Derwentwater,  Nithsdale,  and 
Carnwath,  and  the  Lords  Widdrington,  Kenmure, 
and  Nairn.  The  hall,  as  usual  on  such  occasions, 
presented  an  imposing  and  magnificent  scene.  The 
area  behind  the  bar  was  crowded  with  thousands 
of  spectators ;  the  peers  and  judges  sat  in  their 
robes ;  the  galleries  were  filled  with  the  rank  and 
beauty  of  the  land ;  the  Commons  of  Great  Brit- 
ain, with  great  solemnity,  presented  the  articles 
of  impeachment  at  the  bar  of  the  House  of  Lords  ; 
and  the  prisoners  were  led  into  the  hall  with  the 
usual  formalities,  surrounded  by  soldiers,  and  with 
the  back  of  the  axe  turned  toward  them. 

The  peers  having  returned  a  verdict  of  guilty, 
on  the  9th  of  February  these  unfortunate  noble- 
men were  again  brought  to  the  bar  in  Westmin- 
ster Hall  to  receive  their  sentence.  When  asked 
by  the  lord  high  steward  if  they  had  anything  to 
advance  why  judgment  should  not  be  pronounced 
against  them,  they  severally  threw  themselves  on 
the  king's  mercy,  admitting  their  offence,  and 
declaring  that,  if  the  royal  clemency  should  be 
extended  toward  them,  they  would  continue  duti- 
ful and  devoted  subjects  to  the  end  of  their  lives. 
The  appearance  and  demeanour  at  the  bar  of 
the  young  and  gallant  Derwentwater  excited  the 


41 8  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

warmest  commiseration  in  the  vast  audience.  "  The 
terrors  of  your  lordships'  just  sentence,"  he  said, 
"  which  at  once  deprives  me  of  my  life  and  estate, 
and  completes  the  misfortunes  of  my  wife  and 
innocent  children,  are  so  heavy  upon  my  mind 
that  I  am  scarcely  able  to  allege  what  may  exten- 
uate my  offence,  if  anything  can  do  it.  I  have 
confessed  myself  guilty ;  but,  my  lords,  that  guilt 
was  rashly  incurred  without  any  premeditation." 
Lord  Nairn  also  pathetically  pleaded  the  cause  of 
his  wife  and  twelve  children. 

The  lord  steward,  having  answered  at  some 
length  the  arguments  advanced  by  the  unfortu- 
nate lords  in  extenuation  of  their  offence,  pro- 
ceeded to  pass  on  them  the  awful  sentence 
awarded  for  high  treason.  The  Lords  Derwent- 
water  and  Kenmure  were  beheaded  on  the  same 
scaffold  on  Tower  Hill  on  the  24th  of  February, 
1716;  the  Earl  of  Nithsdale,  by  means  of  his 
heroic  countess,  contrived  to  escape  from  the 
Tower  in  female  attire ;  and  the  Earl  of  Carn- 
wath  and  Lords  Widdrington  and  Nairn,  after 
remaining  in  prison  till  1717,  were  released  by 
the  Act  of  Grace,  with  the  forfeiture  of  their 
titles  and  estates. 

The  only  other  event  of  any  interest  connected 
with  Westminster  Hall,  in  the  reign  of  George 
the  First,  was  the  arraignment  of  the  celebrated 
statesman,  Robert  Harley,  Earl  of  Oxford,  for 
high  crimes  and  misdemeanours,  on  the  24th  of 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  419 

June,  1/17.  The  king,  the  royal  family,  and  the 
foreign  ambassadors  were  present;  and,  with  the 
usual  ceremonials,  the  earl  was  conducted  from 
the  Tower,  and  led  to  the  bar.  It  was  the  object, 
however,  of  the  ministry  to  prevent,  if  possible, 
an  investigation  which  was  likely  to  reflect  but 
little  credit  on  their  own  conduct.  By  means, 
therefore,  of  Mr.  Walpole,  afterward  Sir  Robert, 
a  feigned  quarrel  was  got  up  between  the  two 
houses ;  long  discussions  took  place  as  to  the 
mode  of  conducting  the  impeachment  and  trial ; 
and,  at  the  close  of  the  day,  it  was  declared  to 
be  unlikely  in  the  extreme  that  they  should  ever 
come  to  a  mutual  understanding;  Accordingly, 
on  the  ist  of  July,  the  Lords  again  took  their  seats 
in  Westminster  Hall ;  the  prisoner  was  called  to 
the  bar,  and,  no  prosecutors  appearing,  the  earl 
was  unanimously  acquitted,  and,  after  an  imprison- 
ment of  upwards  of  two  years,  was  restored  to  his 
liberty. 

George  the  Second  was  crowned  in  Westminster 
Abbey  on  the  nth  of  October,  1727,  and  the  ban- 
quet was  afterward  held  in  the  hall  with  the  usual 
splendour  and  formalities.  But  from  the  corona- 
tion festivities  of  this  uninteresting  monarch  we 
turn  with  far  more  interest  to  the  splendid  and 
imposing  scene  presented  by  Westminster  Hall, 
when  those  gallant  and  devoted  followers  of  the 
fortunes  of  Charles  Edward,  the  Earls  of  Cro- 
martie  and  Kilmarnock,  and  Lord  Balmerino,  were 


420  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

arraigned  as  criminals  under  its  roof.  At  eight 
o'clock  in  the  morning  on  the  28th  of  July,  1746, 
they  were  conducted  from  the  Tower  to  Westmin- 
ster in  three  coaches,  attended  by  a  strong  guard 
of  foot-soldiers,  and,  as  soon  as  the  peers  had 
assembled  in  Westminster  Hall,  proclamation  was 
made  for  their  appearance.  They  were  then 
brought  to  the  bar,  preceded  by  the  gentleman 
gaoler,  who  carried  the  axe  with  the  blunt  part 
toward  them.  The  usual  compliments  having 
passed  between  the  prisoners  and  the  peers,  the 
indictments  were  read  with  all  the  customary 
fcrmalities. 

The  trial  scene  of  the  insurgent  lords  is  graphi- 
cally described  by  Horace  Walpole  in  one  of  the 
most  interesting  of  his  charming  letters.  To  Sir 
Horace  Mann  he  writes,  on  the  ist  of  August, 
1746  :  "  I  am  this  moment  come  from  the  conclu- 
sion of  the  greatest  and  most  melancholy  scene  I 
ever  yet  saw !  You  will  easily  guess  it  was  the 
trials  of  the  rebel  lords.  As  it  was  the  most 
interesting  sight,  so  it  was  the  most  solemn  and 
fine :  a  coronation  is  a  puppet-show,  and  all  the 
splendour  of  it  idle ;  but  this  sight  at  once  feasted 
one's  eyes,  and  engaged  all  one's  passions.  It  began 
last  Monday ;  three  parts  of  Westminster  Hall 
were  enclosed  with  galleries,  and  hung  with  scar- 
let ;  and  the  whole  ceremony  was  conducted  with 
the  most  awful  solemnity  and  decency,  except  in 
the  one  point  of  leaving  the  prisoners  at  the  bar 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  421 

amidst  the  idle  curiosity  of  some  crowd,  and  even 
with  the  witnesses  who  had  sworn  against  them, 
while  the  lords  adjourned  to  their  own  house  to 
consult.  No  part  of  the  royal  family  was  there, 
which  was  a  proper  regard  to  the  unhappy  men 
who  were  become  their  victims.  One  hundred  and 
thirty-nine  lords  were  present,  and  made  a  noble 
sight  on  their  benches  frequent  and  full !  The 
chancellor  x  was  lord  high  steward  ;  but,  though  a 
most  comely  personage  with  a  fine  voice,  his  be- 
haviour was  mean,  curiously  searching  for  occasion 
to  bow  to  the  minister 2  that  is  no  peer,  and,  con- 
sequently, applying  to  the  other  ministers,  in  a 
manner,  for  their  orders,  and  not  even  ready  at 
the  ceremonial.  To  the  prisoners  he  was  peevish, 
and,  instead  of  keeping  up  the  humane  dignity  of 
the  law  of  England,  whose  character  is  to  point 
out  favour  to  the  criminal,  he  crossed  them,  and 
almost  scolded  at  any  offer  they  made  toward 
defence.  I  had  armed  myself  with  all  the  resolu- 
tion I  could,  with  the  thought  of  their  crimes 
and  of  the  danger  past,  and  was  assisted  by  the 
sight  of  the  Marquis  of  Lothian,1  in  weepers  for  his 
son  who  fell  at  Culloden  ;  but  the  first  appearance 
of  the  prisoners  shocked  me !  their  behaviour 
melted  me ! " 

"For  Lord  Balmerino,"  adds  Walpole,   "he  is 

1  Lord  Hardwicke.  2  Henry  Pelham. 

3  William  Kerr,  third  Marquis  of  Lothian,  whose  second  son, 
Lord  Robert  Kerr,  had  been  killed  at  the  battle  of  Culloden. 


422  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

the  most  natural  brave  old  fellow  I  ever  saw ;  the 
highest  intrepidity,  even  to  indifference.  At  the 
bar  he  behaved  like  a  soldier  and  a  man ;  in 
the  intervals  of  form  with  carelessness  and  hu- 
mour. He  pressed  extremely  to  have  his  wife, 
his  pretty  Peggy,  with  him  in  the  Tower.  Lady 
Cromartie  only  sees  her  husband  through  the 
grate,  not  choosing  to  be  shut  up  with  him,  as 
she  thinks  she  can  serve  him  better  by  her  inter- 
cession without ;  she  is  big  with  child  and  very 
handsome,  so  are  her  daughters.  When  they  were 
to  be  brought  from  the  Tower  in  separate  coaches, 
there  was  some  dispute  in  which  the  axe  must  go. 
Old  Balmerino  cried,  'Come,  come,  put  it  with 
me.'  At  the  bar  he  plays  with  his  fingers  upon 
the  axe  while  he  talks  to  the  gentleman  gaoler ; 
and  one  day  somebody  coming  up  to  listen,  he 
took  the  blade  and  held  it  like  a  fan  between  their 
faces.  During  the  trial  a  little  boy  was  near  him, 
but  not  tall  enough  to  see ;  he  made  room  for  the 
child,  and  placed  him  near  himself. 

"  When  the  trial  began,  the  two  earls  pleaded 
guilty,  Balmerino  not  guilty,  saying  he  could  prove 
his  not  being  at  the  taking  of  the  castle  of  Carlisle, 
as  was  laid  in  the  indictment.  Then  the  king's 
counsel  opened,  and  Sergeant  Skinner  pronounced 
the  most  absurd  speech  imaginable,  and  mentioned 
the  Duke  of  Perth,  '  who,'  said  he,  '  I  see  by  the 
papers  is  dead.'  Then  some  witnesses  were  exam- 
ined, whom  afterward  the  old  hero  shook  cordially 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  423 

by  the  hand.  The  lords  withdrew  to  their  house, 
and,  returning,  demanded  of  the  judges  whether 
one  point  not  being  proved,  though  all  the  rest 
were,  the  indictment  was  false  —  to  which  they 
unanimously  answered  in  the  negative.  Then  the 
lord  high  steward  asked  the  peers  severally  whether 
Lord  Balmerino  was  guilty.  All  said,  '  Guilty, 
upon  honour,'  and  then  adjourned,  the  prisoner 
having  begged  pardon  for  giving  them  so  much 
trouble.  While  the  lords  were  withdrawn,  the 
Solicitor-General  Murray  (brother  of  the  Pretend- 
er's minister)  officiously  and  insolently  went  up 
to  Lord  Balmerino,  and  asked  him  how  he  could 
give  the  lords  so  much  trouble,  when  his  solicitor 
had  informed  him  that  his  plea  could  be  of  no  use 
to  him.  Balmerino  asked  the  bystanders  who  this 
person  was,  and,  being  told,  he  said,  '  Oh,  Mr. 
Murray  ?  I  am  extremely  glad  to  see  you ;  I  have 
been  with  several  of  your  relations ;  the  good  lady, 
your  mother,  was  of  great  use  to  us  at  Perth.' 
Are  you  not  charmed  with  this  speech  ?  How 
just  it  was!  As  he  went  away,  he  said,  'They 
call  me  Jacobite ;  I  am  no  more  a  Jacobite  than 
any  that  tried  me,  but  if  the  Great  Mogul  had  set 
up  his  standard,  I  should  have  followed  it,  for  I 
could  not  starve.' 

"  When  the  peers  were  going  to  vote,"  proceeds 
Walpole,  "  Lord  Foley  withdrew  as  too  well  a 
wisher ;  Lord  Moray,  as  nephew  of  Lord  Balmer- 
ino ;  and  Lord  Stair,  as,  I  believe,  uncle  to  his 


424  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

great-grandfather.  Lord  Windsor  very  affectedly 
said,  'I  am  sorry  I  must  say,  guilty,  upon  my 
honour.'  Lord  Stamford  would  not  answer  to  the 
name  of  Henry,  having  been  christened  Harry,  — 
what  a  great  way  of  thinking  on  such  an  occasion ! 
I  was  diverted,  too,  with  old  Norsa,  the  father  of 
my  brother's  concubine,  an  old  Jew  that  kept  a 
tavern.  My  brother,  as  auditor  of  the  exchequer, 
has  a  gallery  along  one  whole  side  of  the  court. 
I  said,  '  I  really  feel  for  the  prisoners  ! '  Old 
Issachar  replied,  '  Feel  for  them  !  pray,  if  they 
had  succeeded,  what  would  have  become  of  all 
us  ? '  When  my  Lady  Townshend  heard  her  hus- 
band vote,  she  said,  '  I  always  knew  my  lord  was 
guilty,  but  I  never  thought  he  would  own  it  upon 
his  honour.'  Lord  Balmerino  said  that  one  of  his 
reasons  for  pleading  not  guilty  was,  that  so  many 
ladies  might  not  be  disappointed  of  their  show." 

Having  been  found  guilty  by  the  unanimous 
verdict  of  their  peers,  the  prisoners  were  recalled 
to  the  bar,  and  having  been  informed  by  the  lord 
steward  that  on  the  day  following  the  next  sen- 
tence would  be  passed  upon  them,  they  were 
reconducted  to  the  Tower,  with  the  edge  of  the 
axe  turned  toward  them.  Accordingly,  on  the 
3Oth  of  July,  they  were  again  brought  to  the  bar 
of  Westminster  Hall  to  receive  judgment,  but,  in 
consequence  of  a  technical  objection  raised  by  Lord 
Balmerino,  the  court  was  once  more  adjourned  to 
the  i  st  of  August,  in  order  to  enable  him  to  obtain 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  425 

the  assistance  of  counsel.  On  that  day  the  peers 
again  assembled  in  Westminster  Hall,  when  the 
prisoners  were  called  upon,  with  the  usual  formali- 
ties, to  state  if  they  had  any  objection  to  raise  why 
sentence  of  death  should  not  be  passed  upon  them. 
They  all  answered  in  the  negative,  Lord  Balmerino 
adding,  that  his  counsel  had  satisfied  him  that  there 
was  nothing  in  the  objection  which  he  had  raised 
which  could  do  him  service,  and  that  he  there- 
fore regretted  that  he  had  occasioned  so  much 
trouble  to  their  lordships.  The  lord  steward 
then  addressed  them  in  a  pathetic  speech,  and 
concluded  by  passing  on  them  the  dreadful  sen- 
tence which  the  law  awards  for  the  crime  of  high 
treason.  The  prisoners  were  then  removed  ;  the 
lord  steward  broke  his  staff,  and  declared  the 
commission  to  be  dissolved. 

Eight  months  afterward,  the  same  imposing 
spectacle  was  exhibited  in  Westminster  Hall,  at 
the  trial  of  the  celebrated  Lord  Lovat,  who  now 
stood  a  prisoner  before  his  peers,  after  a  long  life 
of  craft  and  profligacy,  at  the  almost  patriarchal 
age  of  eighty.  Horace  Walpole  writes  to  Sir  Hor- 
ace Mann,  on  the  2Oth  of  March,  1747:  "I  have 
been  living  at  old  Lovat's  trial,  and  was  willing  to 
have  it  over  before  I  talked  to  you  of  it.  It  lasted 
seven  days.  The  evidence  was  as  strong  as  pos- 
sible, and  after  all  he  had  denounced,  he  made  no 
defence.  The  solicitor-general,1  who  was  one  of 

1  William  Murray,  afterward  the  celebrated  Lord  Mansfield. 


426  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

the  managers  for  the  House  of  Commons,  shone 
extremely  ;  the  attorney-general,1  who  is  a  much 
greater  lawyer,  is  cold  and  tedious.  The  old 
creature's  behaviour  has  been  foolish,  and  at  last 
indecent.  I  see  little  of  parts  in  him,  nor  attrib- 
bute  much  to  that  cunning  for  which  he  is  so 
famous ;  it  might  catch  wild  Highlanders,  but  the 
art  of  dissimulation  and  flattery  is  so  refined  and 
improved  that  it  is  of  little  use  now  where  it  is 
not  very  delicate.  When  Sir  Everard  Falkner," 
adds  Walpole,  "  had  been  examined  against  Lovat, 
the  lord  high  steward  asked  the  latter  if  he  had 
anything  to  say  to  Sir  Everard.  He  replied,  '  No, 
but  that  he  was  his  humble  servant,  and  wished 
him  joy  of  his  young  wife.'  The  last  two  days  he 
behaved  ridiculously,  joking,  and  making  every- 
body laugh  even  at  the  sentence.  He  said  to 
Lord  Ilchester,  who  sat  near  the  bar,  (Je  meurs 
pour  ma  patrie  et  ne  m'en  soucie  gutres'  When 
he  withdrew,  he  said,  'Adieu,  my  lords,  we  shall 
never  meet  again  in  the  same  place.'  He  says  he 
will  be  hanged,  for  that  his  neck  is  so  short  and 
bended  that  he  should  be  struck  in  the  shoulders. 
I  did  not  think  it  possible  to  feel  so  little  as  I  did 
at  so  melancholy  a  spectacle,  but  tyranny  and  vil- 
lainy, wound  up  by  buffoonery,  took  off  all  edge 
of  concern.  The  foreigners  were  much  struck." 
This  extraordinary  man,  notwithstanding  his  buf- 
foonery at  his  trial,  his  vices,  and  the  exceeding 

1  Sir  Dudley  Ryder,  afterward  lord  chief  justice. 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  427 

infamy  of  his  career,  died  with  a  dignity  which 
would  have  done  credit  to  an  ancient  Roman. 
Walpole  writes  on  the  loth  of  April,  "  Old  Lovat 
was  beheaded  yesterday,  and  died  extremely  well, 
without  passion,  affectation,  buffoonery,  or  timid- 
ity ;  his  behaviour  was  natural  and  intrepid."  He 
jested  with  the  executioner  on  the  subject  of  his 
melancholy  occupation,  and  died  with  the  beauti- 
ful line  of  Horace  on  his  lips,  "  Duke  et  decorum 
est pro patrid  mori" 

George  the  Third,  with  his  consort,  Charlotte 
of  Mecklenberg-Strelitz,  was  crowned  at  West- 
minster on  the  22d  of  September,  1761  ;  and 
afterward  sat  at  his  coronation  banquet  in  the 
hall  with  his  young  bride,  attended  by  all  the 
formalities  and  ceremonials  which  had  been  digni- 
fied by  the  custom  of  past  ages.  And  looking 
down  from  one  of  the  galleries  sat  one  who,  in  a 
disguised  habit,  and  with  his  face  half-concealed, 
was  no  unconcerned  spectator  of  that  gorgeous 
scene.  This  person  was  he  who,  in  his  youth, 
had  been  the  idol  of  the  rude  and  devoted  High- 
landers who  fought  their  way  to  Derby  with  their 
claymores  in  1745  ;  the  young  hero  of  Preston 
Pans  and  Falkirk,  the  descendant  of  a  hundred 
kings ;  he  who,  by  the  right  of  legitimate  descent, 
and  who,  but  for  the  bigotry  of  his  grandfather, 
James  the  Second,  would  have  sat  on  the  splendid 
throne  which  he  now  saw  occupied  by  the  German 
alien  who  was  the  usurper  of  his  rights.  David 


428  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

Hume  writes  to  Sir  John  Pringle  on  the  loth  of 
February,  1773  :  "  What  will  surprise  you,  Lord 
Marshal,  a  few  days  after  the  coronation  of  the 
present  king,  told  me  that  he  believed  the  Young 
Pretender  was  at  that  time  in  London,  or  at  least 
had  been  so  very  lately,  and  had  come  over  to  see 
the  show  of  the  coronation,  and  had  actually  seen 
it.  I  asked  my  lord  the  reason  for  this  strange 
fact  ?  '  Why,'  says  he,  'a  gentleman  told  me 
that  saw  him  there,  and  that  he  even  spoke  to 
him,  and  whispered  in  his  ears  these  words,  "  Your 
Royal  Highness  is  the  last  of  all  mortals  whom  I 
should  expect  to  meet  here."  "  It  was  curiosity 
that  led  me,"  said  the  other,  "  but  I  assure  you 
that  the  person  who  is  the  object  of  all  this  pomp 
and  magnificence  is  the  man  I  envy  the  least." 
What  if  the  Pretender  had  taken  up  Dymock's 
gauntlet  ? ' " 

We  have  already  perhaps  lingered  at  too  great 
length  on  the  scenes  which  have  taken  place  in 
Westminster  Hall.  But  to  those  who  delight  in 
graphic  descriptions  of  the  manners  and  customs 
of  past  times,  the  picture  is  one  of  equal  interest, 
whether  it  be  borrowed  from  the  pages  of  an 
ancient  monkish  chronicler,  or  from  a  gossiping 
writer  of  modern  times  ;  from  the  grave  chroni- 
cles of  Fabian  and  Matthew  Paris,  of  Hall  and 
Holinshed,  to  the  charming  pages  of  Horace  Wai- 
pole  ;  whether  it  be  a  description  of  the  Black 
Prince  as  he  gallantly  presented  himself  in  West- 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  429 

minster  Hall  after  the  battle  of  Poictiers,  or  of 
George  Selwyn  mystifying  with  witty  nonsense 
the  ermined  and  bedizened  Lady  Harrington  at 
the  coronation  of  George  the  Third. 

We  have  mentioned  William  Rufus,  "feasting 
royally"  in  the  eleventh  century  in  Westminster 
Hall,  and  as  a  curious  contrast  we  will  let  Wai- 
pole  describe  a  similar  scene  as  it  was  presented, 
nearly  eight  hundred  years  afterward,  in  the 
middle  of  the  last  century.  To  George  Montague 
he  writes  on  the  24th  September,  1761  :  "For  the 
coronation,  if  a  puppet  show  could  be  worth  a 
million,  that  is.  The  multitudes,  balconies,  guards, 
and  processions  made  Palace  Yard  the  liveliest 
spectacle  in  the  world ;  the  hall  was  the  most 
glorious.  The  blaze  of  lights,  the  richness  and 
variety  of  habits,  the  ceremonial,  the  benches  of 
peers  and  peeresses,  frequent  and  full,  was  as 
awful  as  a  pageant  can  be  ;  and  yet,  for  the  king's 
sake  and  my  own,  I  never  wish  to  see  another, 
nor  am  impatient  to  have  my  Lord  Effingham's 
promise  fulfilled.  The  king  complained  that  so 
few  precedents  were  kept  for  their  proceedings. 
Lord  Effingham  owned  the  earl  marshal's  office 
had  been  strangely  neglected ;  but  he  had  taken 
such  care  for  the  future  that  the  '  next  coronation ' 
would  be  regulated  in  the  most  exact  manner 
imaginable.  The  number  of  peers  and  peeresses 
present  was  not  very  great ;  some  of  the  latter 
with  no  excuse  in  the  world  appeared  in  Lord 


430  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

Lincoln's  gallery,  and  even  walked  about  the  hall 
indecently  in  the  intervals  of  the  procession.  My 
Lady  Harrington,  covered  with  all  the  diamonds 
she  could  borrow,  hire,  or  seize,  and  with  the  air 
of  Roxana,  was  the  finest  figure  at  a  distance; 
she  complained  to  George  Selwyn  that  she  was 
to  walk  with  Lady  Portsmouth,  who  would  have  a 
wig  and  a  stick.  'Pooh,'  said  he,  'you  will  only 
look  as  if  you  were  taken  up  by  the  constable.' 
She  told  this  everywhere,  thinking  the  reflection 
was  on  my  Lady  Portsmouth.  Lady  Pembroke 
alone,  at  the  head  of  the  countesses,  was  the  pic- 
ture of  majestic  modesty ;  the  Duchess  of  Rich- 
mond as  pretty  as  nature  and  dress,  with  no  pains 
of  her  own,  could  make  her ;  Lady  Spenser,  Lady 
Sunderland,  and  Lady  Northampton  very  pretty 
figures ;  Lady  Kildare  still  beauty  itself,  if  not 
a  little  too  large.  The  ancient  peeresses  were 
by  no  means  the  worst  party.  Lady  West- 
moreland still  handsome,  and  with  more  dignity 
than  all.  The  Duchess  of  Queensbury  looked 
well,  though  her  locks  are  milk-white ;  Lady 
Albemarle  very  genteel ;  nay,  the  middle  age  had 
some  good  representatives  in  Lady  Holderness, 
Lady  Rochford,  and  Lady  Strafford,  the  per- 
fectest  little  figure  of  all.  My  Lady  Suffolk 
ordered  her  robes,  and  I  dressed  part  of  her  head, 
as  I  made  some  of  my  Lord  Hertford's  dress,  for 
you  know  no  profession  comes  amiss  to  me  from 
the  tribune  of  the  people  to  a  habit  maker.  Don't 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  431 

imagine  that  there  were  not  figures  as  excellent 
on  the  other  side ;  old  Exeter,  who  told  the  king 
he  was  the  handsomest  man  she  ever  saw ;  old 
Effingham,  and  a  Lady  Say  and  Scale,  with  her 
hair  powdered,  and  her  tresses  black,  was  an 

excellent  contrast  to  the  handsome.     Lord  B 

put  on  rouge  upon  his  wife  and  the  Duchess  of 
Bedford  in  the  Painted  Chamber.  The  Duchess  of 
Queensbury  told  me  of  the  latter,  that  she  looked 
like  an  orange  peach,  half  red  and  half  yellow. 
The  coronets  of  the  peers  and  their  robes  dis- 
guised them  strangely ;  it  required  all  the  beauty 
of  the  Dukes  of  Richmond  and  Marlborough  to 
make  them  noticed.  One  there  was,  though  of 
another  species,  the  noblest  figure  I  ever  saw,  the 
High  Constable  of  Scotland,  Lord  Errol ;  as  one 
saw  him  in  a  space  capable  of  containing  him,  one 
admired  him.  At  the  wedding,  dressed  in  tissue, 
he  looked  like  one  of  the  giants  in  Guildhall  new 
gilt.  It  added  to  the  energy  of  his  person,  that 
one  considered  him  acting  so  considerable  a  part 
in  that  very  hall  where  so  few  years  ago  one  saw 
his  father,  Lord  Kilmarnock,  condemned  to  the 
block.  The  champion  acted  his  part  admirably, 
and  dashed  down  his  gauntlet  with  proud  defiance. 
His  associates,  Lord  Effingham,  Lord  Talbot,  and 
the  Duke  of  Bedford  were  woful ;  Lord  Talbot 
piqued  himself  on  backing  his  horse  down  the 
hall,  and  not  turning  its  rump  toward  the  king, 
but  he  had  taken  such  pains  to  dress  it  to  that 


432  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

duty,  that  it  entered  backwards,  and  at  his  retreat 
the  spectators  clapped,  a  terrible  indecorum." 

On  the  1 6th  of  April,  1765,  William,  fifth  Lord 
Byron,  was  tried  before  his  peers  in  Westminster 
Hall,  for  the  manslaughter  of  William  Chaworth, 
Esq.  The  circumstances  under  which  Lord  Byron 
killed  his  neighbour  and  friend,  we  have  already 
related  in  our  notices  of  Pall  Mall.  The  duel, 
originating  in  a  most  trifling  dispute,  took  place 
in  the  Star  and  Garter  Tavern  in  that  street ;  the 
combatants  fighting  with  swords  in  a  solitary  apart- 
ment, without  witnesses  or  seconds,  and  by  the 
light  of  a  single  candle.  Fortunately  for  Lord 
Byron,  Mr.  Chaworth  was  able  before  he  died  to 
exonerate  his  antagonist  from  blame,  and  to  declare 
the  duel  to  have  been  a  fair  one.  Horace  Walpole 
writes  to  the  Earl  of  Hertford  :  "  Lord  Byron  has 
not  gone  off,  but  says  he  will  take  his  trial,  which, 
if  the  coroner  brings  in  a  verdict  of  manslaughter, 
may,  according  to  precedent,  be  in  the  House  of 
Lords,  and  without  the  ceremonial  of  Westminster 
Hall.  George  Selwyn  is  much  missed  on  this 
occasion,  but  we  conclude  it  will  bring  him  over." 
The  following  month  Gilly  Williams  writes  to 
George  Selwyn :  "  I  suppose  Byron  has  told 
you  himself,  that  he  intends  to  surrender  as  soon 
as  Westminster  Hall  is  ready  for  him.  It  will  be 
a  show  for  a  day  to  the  queen  and  the  foreign 
ministers,  but  cannot  possibly  be  attended  with 
any  ill  consequences  to  the  culprit."  Lord  Byron 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  433 

was  found  guilty  by  his  peers,  there  being  a  major- 
ity of  one  hundred  and  fourteen  against  four ;  but 
claiming  the  privilege  of  peerage  under  a  statute 
passed  in  the  reign  of  Edward  the  Fourth,  he  was 
discharged.  The  eccentricities  of  this  extraordi- 
nary person,  his  subsequent  strange  career,  living 
in  a  state  of  austere  and  almost  savage  seclusion, 
have  been  rendered  familiar  to  us  by  the  memoirs 
of  his  no  less  eccentric  heir  and  great  nephew,  the 
author  of  "  Cain  "  and  "  Don  Juan." 

On  the  1 5th  of  April,  1776,  the  profligate  and 
once  beautiful  Duchess  of  Kingston  underwent 
her  trial  in  Westminster  Hall,  for  having  married 
Evelyn  Pierrepont,  Duke  of  Kingston,  her  first 
husband,  Augustus,  third  Earl  of  Bristol,  being 
still  alive.  Hannah  More,  who  was  present,  thus 
describes  the  scene  :  "  Garrick  would  have  me 
take  his  ticket  to  go  to  the  trial  of  the  Duchess  of 
Kingston,  a  sight  which  for  beauty  and  magnifi- 
cence exceeded  anything  which  those  who  were 
never  present  at  a  coronation  or  trial  by  peers 
can  have  the  least  notion  of.  Mr.  Garrick  and  I 
were  in  full  dress  by  seven.  You  will  imagine  the 
bustle  of  five  thousand  people  getting  into  one  hall ; 
yet  in  all  this  hurry  we  walked  in  tranquilly.  When 
they  were  all  seated,  and  the  king-at-arms  had  com- 
manded silence  on  pain  of  imprisonment  (which, 
however,  was  very  ill  observed),  the  gentleman  of 
the  black  rod  was  commanded  to  bring  in  his  pris- 
oner. Elizabeth,  calling  herself  Duchess  Dowager 


434  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

of  Kingston,  walked  in,  led  by  black  rod  and  M. 
La  Roche,  curtseying  profoundly  to  her  judges. 
The  peers  made  her  a  slight  bow.  The  prisoner 
was  dressed  in  deep  mourning  ;  a  black  hood  on  her 
head,  her  hair  modestly  dressed  and  powdered,  a 
black  silk  sacque  with  crape  trimmings,  black  gauze, 
deep  ruffles,  and  black  gloves.  The  counsel  spoke 
about  her  an  hour  and  a  quarter  each.  Dunning's 
manner  is  insufferably  bad,  coughing  and  spitting 
at  every  three  words,  but  his  sense  and  his 
expression  pointed  to  the  last  degree ;  he  made 
her  Grace  shed  bitter  tears.  The  fair  victim  had 
four  virgins  in  white  behind  the  bar.  She  imi- 
tated her  great  predecessor,  Mrs.  Rudd,  and 
affected  to  write  very  often,  though  I  plainly 
perceived  she  only  wrote  as  they  do  their  love 
epistles  on  the  stage,  without  forming  a  letter. 
The  duchess  has  but  small  remains  of  that  beauty 
of  which  kings  and  princes  were  once  so  enam- 
oured. She  looked  much  like  Mrs.  Pritchard. 
She  is  large  and  ill-shaped,  there  is  nothing  white 
but  her  face,  and  had  it  not  been  for  that,  she 
would  have  looked  like  a  bale  of  bombasine. 
There  was  a  great  deal  of  ceremony,  a  great  deal 
of  splendour,  and  a  great  deal  of  nonsense ;  they 
adjourned  upon  the  most  foolish  pretences  imagi- 
nable, and  did  nothing  with  such  an  air  of  business 
as  was  truly  ridiculous.  I  forgot  to  tell  you  the 
duchess  was  taken  ill,  but  performed  it  badly." 
The  writer  adds,  in  a  subsequent  letter :  "  I  have 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  435 

the  great  satisfaction  of  telling  you,  that  Eliza- 
beth, calling  herself  Duchess  Dowager  of  Kings- 
ton, was  this  very  afternoon  undignified  and 
unduchessed,  and  very  narrowly  escaped  being 
burned  in  the  hand.  If  you  have  been  half  so 
much  interested  against  this  unprincipled,  artful, 
licentious  woman  as  I  have,  you  will  be  rejoiced  at 
it  as  I  am.  Lord  Camden  breakfasted  with  us. 
He  is  very  angry  that  she  was  not  burned  in  the 
hand  ;  he  says,  as  he  was  once  a  professed  lover  of 
hers,  he  thought  it  would  have  looked  ill-natured 
and  ungallant  for  him  to  propose  it,  but  that  he 
should  have  acceded  to  it  most  heartily,  though  he 
believes  he  should  have  recommended  a  cold 
iron."  The  duchess  claimed  the  benefit  of  the 
peerage,  under  the  statute  of  the  first  of  Edward 
the  Sixth,  and  was  accordingly  discharged  with- 
out punishment.  The  subsequent  history  of  the 
eccentric  duchess  is  well  known. 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  trials  which  have 
taken  place  in  Westminster  Hall,  or  perhaps  in 
any  country  or  age,  was  that  of  Warren  Hastings, 
who  was  arraigned  on  the  I2th  of  February,  1788, 
for  alleged  tyranny  over  the  native  princes  and 
the  dusky  population  of  Hindustan.  Few  men 
have  ever  conferred  greater  services  on  their  coun- 
try, or  have  been  more  deserving  of  its  gratitude. 
This  great  man  had  recently  returned  from  his 
dominion  over  the  vast  empire  of  the  East,  followed 
by  the  blessings  of  thousands,  and  leaving  behind 


436  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

him  a  name  which  was  revered,  even  where  it  had 
been  most  dreaded.  When  he  reached  his  native 
country,  he  was  still  in  the  prime  of  life  ;  eager 
to  take  that  share  in  the  great  political  struggles 
of  the  day,  for  which  his  genius  so  well  adapted 
him,  and  expecting  that  his  brilliant  services  in 
the  East  would  be  repaid  with  those  honours  and 
rewards  which  they  so  well  merited.  But  a  dif- 
ferent fate  awaited  him.  He  had  scarcely  set  his 
foot  in  England,  when  he  found  himself  a  pro- 
scribed man ;  assailed  in  all  quarters  as  a  tyrant 
and  despot,  and  compelled  to  oppose  himself, 
almost  alone  and  unsupported,  to  a  united  and 
powerful  party,  at  the  head  of  whom  were  arrayed 
the  giant  intellects  of  Burke,  Sheridan,  and  Charles 
James  Fox.  The  trial,  or  rather  persecution,  of 
Warren  Hastings  lasted  no  less  than  nine  years, 
and  when  the  verdict  of  acquittal  was  at  length 
pronounced,  it  was  when  the  vigour  of  life  had 
passed  away,  and  when,  having  expended  his  for- 
tune in  the  struggle,  he  found  himself,  compara- 
tively speaking,  a  ruined  man. 

The  celebrated  trial  scene  of  Warren  Hastings, 
in  Westminster  Hall,  has  been  graphically  and 
beautifully  painted  by  Mr.  Macaulay. 

"The  place,"  he  says,  "was  worthy  of  such  a 
trial.  It  was  the  great  hall  of  William  Rufus,  the 
hall  which  had  resounded  with  acclamations  at 
the  inauguration  of  thirty  kings,  the  hall  which 
had  witnessed  the  just  sentence  of  Bacon,  and 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  437 

the  just  absolution  of  Somers,1  the  hall  where  the 
eloquence  of  Strafford  had  for  a  moment  awed 
and  melted  a  victorious  party  inflamed  with  just 
resentment,  the  hall  where  Charles  had  confronted 
the  high  court  of  justice  with  the  placid  cour- 
age which  has  half  redeemed  his  fame.  Neither 
military  nor  civil  pomp  was  wanting.  The  ave- 
nues were  lined  with  grenadiers.  The  streets 
were  kept  clear  by  cavalry.  The  peers,  robed  in 
velvet  and  ermine,  were  marshalled  by  the  heralds 
under  garter-king-at-arms.  The  judges  in  their 
vestments  of  state  attended  to  give  advice  on 
points  of  law.  Near  a  hundred  and  seventy  lords, 
three-fourths  of  the  Upper  House,  as  the  Upper 
House  then  was,  walked  in  solemn  order  from 
their  usual  place  of  assembling  to  the  tribunal. 
The  junior  baron  present  led  the  way,  George 
Elliot,  Lord  Heathfield,  recently  ennobled  for  his 
memorable  defence  of  Gibraltar  against  the  fleets 
and  armies  of  France  and  Spain.  The  long  pro- 
cession was  closed  by  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  earl 
marshal  of  the  realm,  by  the  great  dignitaries,  and 
by  the  brothers  and  sons  of  the  king.  Last  of  all 
came  the  Prince  of  Wales,  conspicuous  by  his  fine 
person  and  noble  bearing.  The  gray  old  walls 

1  This  is  more  poetical  than  true.  The  proceedings,  both 
against  Bacon  and  Somers,  took  place,  not  in  Westminster  Hall, 
but  in  the  old  House  of  Lclrds.  We  have  merely  mentioned 
these  facts,  lest,  in  our  notices  of  the  hall,  we  might  be  supposed 
to  have  omitted  two  such  remarkable  events  in  its  past  history 
as  the  trials  of  these  two  celebrated  men. 


438  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

were  hung  with  scarlet.  The  long  galleries  were 
crowded  by  an  audience  such  as  has  rarely  excited 
the  fears  or  the  emulation  of  an  orator.  There 
were  gathered  together,  from  all  parts  of  a  great, 
free,  enlightened,  and  prosperous  empire,  grace 
and  female  loveliness,  wit  and  learning,  the  repre- 
sentatives of  every  science  and  of  every  art.  There 
were  seated  around  the  queen  the  fair-haired  young 
daughters  of  the  house  of  Brunswick.  There  the 
ambassadors  of  great  kings  and  commonwealths 
gazed  with  admiration  on  a  spectacle  which  no 
other  country  in  the  world  could  present.  There 
Siddons,  in  the  prime  of  her  majestic  beauty, 
looked  with  emotion  on  a  scene  surpassing  all  the 
imitations  of  the  stage.  There  the  historian  of 
the  Roman  Empire  thought  of  the  days  when 
Cicero  pleaded  the  cause  of  Sicily  against  Verres, 
and  when,  before  a  senate  which  still  retained 
some  show  of  freedom,  Tacitus  thundered  against 
the  oppressor  of  Africa.  There  were  seen,  side 
by  side,  the  greatest  painter  and  the  greatest 
scholar  of  the  age.  The  spectacle  had  allured 
Reynolds  from  that  easel  which  has  preserved  to 
us  the  thoughtful  foreheads  of  so  many  writers 
and  statesmen,  and  the  sweet  smiles  of  so  many 
noble  matrons.  It  had  induced  Parr  to  suspend 
his  labours  in  that  dark  and  profound  mine  from 
which  he  had  extracted  a  vast  treasure  of  erudi- 
tion, a  treasure  too  often  buried  in  the  earth,  too 
often  paraded  with  injudicious  and  inelegant  os- 


WESTMINSTER  HALL.  439 

tentation,  but  still  precious,  massive,  and  splendid. 
There  appeared  the  voluptuous  charms  of  her  to 
whom  the  heir  of  the  throne  had  in  secret  plighted 
his  faith.  There  too  was  she,  the  beautiful  mother 
of  a  beautiful  race,  the  St.  Cecilia,  whose  deli- 
cate features,  lighted  up  by  love  and  music,  art  has 
rescued  from  the  common  decay.  There  were  the 
members  of  that  brilliant  society  which  quoted, 
criticised,  and  exchanged  repartees  under  the  rich 
peacock-hangings  of  Mrs.  Montagu.  And  there 
the  ladies,  whose  lips,  more  persuasive  than  those 
of  Fox  himself,  had  carried  the  Westminster  elec- 
tion against  palace  and  treasury,  shone  around 
Georgiana,  Duchess  of  Devonshire.  The  ser- 
geants made  proclamation,  Hastings  advanced  to 
the  bar  and  bent  his  knee.  The  culprit,  indeed, 
was  not  unworthy  of  that  great  presence ;  he 
had  ruled  an  extensive  and  populous  country,  and 
made  laws  and  treaties,  had  sent  forth  armies,  had 
set  up  and  pulled  down  princes ;  and  in  his  high 
place  he  had  so  borne  himself,  that  all  had  feared 
him,  most  had  loved  him,  and  that  hatred  itself 
could  deny  him  no  title  to  glory  except  virtue. 
He  looked  like  a  great  man,  and  not  like  a  bad 
man.  A  person  small  and  emaciated,  yet  deriving 
dignity  from  a  carriage  which,  while  it  indicated 
deference  to  the  court,  indicated  also  habitual  self- 
possession  and  self-respect,  a  high  and  intellectual 
forehead,  a  brow  pensive  but  not  gloomy,  a  mouth 
of  inflexible  decision,  a  face  pale  and  wan  but 


440  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

serene,  on  which  was  written,  as  legibly  as  under 
the  picture  in  the  council-chamber  at  Calcutta, 
Mens  aqua  in  arduis ;  such  was  the  aspect  with 
which  the  great  proconsul  presented  himself  to 
his  judges." 

The  only  other  event  of  any  interest  associated 
with  Westminster  Hall  —  the  last  occasion  also 
on  which  it  presented  the  striking  splendour  of 
ancient  times — was  the  coronation  of  George 
the  Fourth,  which  was  solemnised  on  the  ist  of 
August,  1820.  At  the  magnificent  banquet,  the 
king  sat  on  a  gorgeous  throne,  on  a  raised  dais, 
immediately  under  the  great  window  at  the  south 
end  of  the  hall.  At  long  ranges  of  tables  were 
seated  the  guests,  including  the  peers,  and  the 
knights  of  the  different  orders,  in  their  robes ; 
every  ceremonial  was  followed  which  had  been  in 
use  in  the  days  of  the  Tudors  and  Plantagenets ; 
and  lastly,  the  champion  Dymoke  rode  into  the 
fine  old  hall  attended  by  the  Duke  of  Wellington 
as  High  Constable  of  England,  and  the  Marquis  of 
Anglesea  as  lord  high  steward,  both  of  them  also 
on  horseback.  The  total  expense  of  the  corona- 
tion ceremony  of  George  the  Fourth,  the  pageant 
of  a  day,  was  estimated  at  one  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  pounds. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

WESTMINSTER    ABBEY. 

Early  Places  of  Worship  on  Its  Site  —  Erection  of  the  Present 
Edifice  —  Scenes  and  Ceremonies  in  It  —  Poets'  Corner — 
Chapels  of  St.  Edmund,  St.  Nicholas,  St.  Paul,  Edward  the 
Confessor,  Islip,  Henry  the  Seventh  —  Cloisters  —  Jerusalem 
Chamber — Chapter  House. 

WILLINGLY  would  we  enter  into  a  detailed  his- 
tory of  Westminster  Abbey,  and  dwell  at  leisure 
on  its  ancient  monuments,  its  architectural  magnif- 
icence, its  host  of  romantic  and  historical  asso- 
ciations. But  volumes  might  be  written  on  the 
subject,  while  the  character  of  the  present  work 
compels  us  to  restrict  ourselves  to  a  brief  history 
of  the  venerable  pile,  and  the  principal  objects  of 
interest  which  are  contained  within  its  walls.  Per- 
haps there  is  no  other  religious  structure  in  the 
world  which  awakens  so  many  heart-stirring 
emotions,  or  which  can  boast  so  many  exquisite 
specimens  of  ancient  art,  or  so  many  interesting 
monuments  to  the  illustrious  dead.  Who  is  there 
who  has  ever  found  himself  beneath  the  roof  of 
Westminster  Abbey,  without  being  struck  with 
feelings  of  admiration  and  awe,  or  without  being 
sensitive  of  the  influence  of  the  sublime  ?  Who 
441 


442  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

is  there  who  has  ever  wandered  among  its  tombs 
of  departed  kings  and  warriors,  of  statesmen  and 
poets,  without  becoming  the  moralist  of  an  hour ; 
or  who  has  ever  quitted  its  walls,  without  being  im- 
pressed with  sensations  of  not  unpleasing  sadness, 
in  which  the  selfishness  of  the  present  hour  is  en- 
tirely absorbed  in  memories  of  the  past  ?  "  When 
I  look,"  says  Addison,  "upon  the  tombs  of  the 
great,  every  emotion  of  envy  dies  within  me ; 
when  I  read  the  epitaphs  of  the  beautiful,  every 
inordinate  desire  goes  out ;  when  I  meet  with  the 
grief  of  parents  upon  a  tombstone,  my  heart  melts 
with  compassion ;  when  I  see  the  tomb  of  the  par- 
ents themselves,  I  consider  the  vanity  of  grieving 
for  those  whom  we  must  quickly  follow ;  when  I 
see  kings  lying  by  those  who  deposed  them,  when 
I  consider  rival  wits  placed  side  by  side,  or  the 
holy  men  that  divided  the  world  with  their  con- 
tests and  disputes,  I  reflect  with  sorrow  and  aston- 
ishment on  the  little  competitions,  factions,  and 
debates  of  mankind.  When  I  read  the  several 
dates  of  the  tombs,  of  some  that  died  yesterday, 
and  some  six  hundred  years  ago,  I  consider  that 
great  day  when  we  shall  all  of  us  be  contempo- 
raries, and  make  our  appearance  together."  Such 
are  the  reflections  which  many  have  felt  in  wan- 
dering through  Westminster  Abbey,  but  which 
none  have  so  beautifully  described. 

"  Unrivalled  work  of  ages  that  have  gone, 
Thou  glorious  Abbey,  which  I  gaze  upon  ! 


WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  443 

How  dear  to  me  is  thy  religious  pile, 
Each  ancient  tomb,  and  each  familiar  aisle  ! 
Dear,  when  at  noon  the  vulgar  crowd  have  fled, 
To  hear  thy  walls  reecho  to  my  tread  ; 
Through  the  stained  glass  to  mark  the  sunbeams 

pour 

Their  blood-red  tints  upon  the  marble  floor  ; 
Come,  then,  let  fancy  weave  the  idle  strain, 
And  fill  with  airy  forms  these  aisles  again  ; 
While  rapt  Imagination's  kindling  eye 
Views  all  the  pomp  of  Papal  Rome  pass  by  : 
The  mitred  Abbot  and  the  torch-lit  throng, 
The  white-robed  chanters  of  the  vesper  song  ; 
And  hooded  monks  in  each  deserted  stall, 
And  Beauty  kneeling  at  confessional  ; 
While  bards  and  monarchs  of  the  ancient  time, 
Rise  from  their  marble  tombs  and  live  in  Rhyme." 


The  earliest  notice  which  we  find  of  there  hav- 
ing been  a  place  of  worship  on  the  site  of  the 
present  Westminster  Abbey  is  the  account  given 
by  Sporley,  one  of  its  monks,  who  dates  its  erec- 
tion to  about  the  year  1  84,  when  King  Lucius  is 
reported  to  have  embraced  Christianity.  Usher 
informs  us,  on  the  authority  of  Fleta,  that  even  at 
this  early  period  it  was  "  specially  deputed  for  the 
burial  of  kings,  and  as  a  treasury  or  repository  of 
their  royal  ornaments." 

According  to  the  old  monkish  writers,  the 
church  built  by  King  Lucius  continued  to  be  a 
place  of  Christian  worship  either  till  the  persecu- 
tion of  the  Christians  in  Britain,  in  the  reign  of  the 


444  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

Emperor  Diocletian,  or  till  the  irruption  into  the 
island  of  a  large  body  of  pagan  Saxons,  about 
the  fifth  or  sixth  century,  when,  on  one  of  these 
two  occasions,  it  was  converted  into  a  temple  of 
Apollo.  In  this  state  it  is  said  to  have  remained 
till  about  the  year  610,  when,  having  been  flung 
down  by  an  earthquake,  Sebert,  King  of  the  East 
Saxons,  erected  a  new  church  on  the  ruins  of  the 
pagan  temple,  Mellitus,  Bishop  of  London,  insti- 
gating him  to  persevere  in  his  pious  work.  In 
connection  with  the  consecration  of  the  new  church, 
a  curious  legend  is  related,  which  for  centuries 
obtained  universal  credence.  Every  preparation 
having  been  made  for  the  ceremony,  St.  Peter, 
to  whom  the  church  was  intended  to  be  dedicated, 
is  said  to  have  descended,  on  a  stormy  night,  on 
the  Lambeth  side  of  the  river,  and  to  have  pre- 
vailed upon  one  Edric,  a  fisherman,  to  ferry  him 
over  to  the  opposite  side.  Desiring  the  fisherman 
to  wait  for  him,  the  saint  proceeded  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  abbey,  which  was  shortly  afterward 
miraculously  illuminated,  accompanied  by  the  voices 
of  angels  singing  choral  hymns.  On  his  return  to 
the  fisherman,  St.  Peter  desired  him  to  tell  the 
bishop  that  the  church  had  no  need  of  further 
consecration ;  and,  in  proof  of  the  truth  of  the 
man's  story,  the  chrism,  and  droppings  of  the  wax 
candles,  were  found  the  next  day  in  the  church. 
The  saint  further  desired  Edric  to  cast  his  nets 
into  the  water ;  who,  having  done  so,  drew  them 


Westminster  Abbey. 

Photo-etching  from  an  old  engraving. 


;turn  to 

tell  the 

further 

of  the 


bO,  l;: 


WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  445 

out  again  loaded  with  a  miraculous  draught  of  sal- 
mon. St.  Peter  told  him  also  that  neither  he  nor 
his  successors  should  ever  want  salmon,  provided 
they  presented  every  tenth  to  his  new  church.  It 
is  curious  to  find  this  custom  kept  up  as  late  as 
the  end  of  the  fourteenth  century ;  the  fishermen 
still  continuing  to  bring  salmon  to  the  high  altar, 
and  having  periodically  the  honour  allowed  them 
of  sitting  at  the  same  table  with  the  prior. 

The  accounts  of  the  monkish  writers,  as  regards 
the  antiquity  of  the  site  of  Westminster  Abbey  as 
a  place  of  religious  worship,  as  well  as  to  its  having 
been  the  site  of  a  temple  of  Apollo,  may  very  pos- 
sibly be  as  much  without  foundation  as  the  legend 
of  St.  Peter  appearing  to  Edric  the  fisherman.  It 
is  quite  impossible,  indeed,  to  reduce  to  anything 
like  fact  the  confused  accounts  given  us  by  the  old 
chroniclers,  and,  with  the  exception  of  the  certainty 
that  there  existed  a  monastic  establishment  here 
in  the  early  part  of  the  seventh  century,  we  are  left 
almost  entirely  in  the  dark  as  to  its  real  history, 
till  Edward  the  Confessor  pulled  down  the  old 
building,  and  erected  on  its  site  a  structure  worthy 
of  the  religion  to  which  it  was  dedicated. 

The  Confessor  appears  to  have  taken  the  deep- 
est interest  in  the  new  pile  which  he  so  piously 
reconstructed,  "  pressing  on  the  work,"  says  Sul- 
cardus,  "very  earnestly,  and  appropriating  to  it  a 
tenth  of  his  entire  substance  in  gold,  silver,  cattle, 
and  all  other  possessions."  This  church,  which. 


446  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

was  commenced  in  1049  anc^  completed  in  1066, 
appears  to  have  been  one  of  the  first  built  in  the 
shape  of  a  cross,  and,  according  to  Matthew  Paris, 
became  an  example  much  followed  in  the  construc- 
tion of  other  churches.  Not  content  with  its  archi- 
tectural adornment,  the  pious  Confessor  filled  it 
with  all  kind  of  relics.  Here,  says  Dort,  were 
"  part  of  the  place  and  manger  where  Christ  was 
born  ;  some  of  the  frankincense  offered  to  him  by 
the  Eastern  Magi ;  of  the  table  of  our  Lord ;  of 
the  bread  which  he  blessed  ;  of  the  seat  where  he 
was  presented  in  the  Temple ;  of  the  wilderness 
where  he  fasted ;  of  the  gaol  where  he  was  impris- 
oned ;  of  his  undivided  garment ;  of  the  sponge, 
lance,  and  scourge  with  which  he  was  tortured ; 
of  the  sepulchre  and  cloth  that  bound  his  head." 
Here,  also,  were  preserved  the  veil,  and  some  of 
the  milk  of  the  Virgin ;  the  blade-bone  of  St.  Ben- 
edict ;  the  finger  of  St.  Alphage ;  the  head  of  St. 
Maxilla ;  and  half  the  jaw-bone  of  St.  Anastasia. 
The  Confessor  had  proposed  to  consecrate  his 
new  church  with  an  extraordinary  display  of  mag- 
nificence ;  and,  for  this  purpose,  had  summoned 
the  prelates  and  his  principal  nobles  to  assemble 
on  Innocents'  Day,  1065.  On  the  night,  how- 
ever, before  Christmas  Day  he  was  seized  with  his 
fatal  illness,  and  being  unable  to  quit  his  chamber, 
his  consort,  Queen  Editha,  was  compelled  to  pre- 
side at  the  ceremony.  The  Confessor  was  buried 
within  his  own  church,  William  the  Conqueror 


WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  447 

bestowing  a  rich  pall  on  his  resting-place,  and 
Henry  the  Second  subsequently  erecting  a  mag- 
nificent tomb  over  his  remains. 

As  we  find  the  unfortunate  successor  of  the 
Confessor,  King  Harold,  proceeding  from  York  to 
Westminster  after  his  accession,  it  is  not  improb- 
able that  he  was  crowned  in  the  abbey,  as  every 
successive  sovereign  of  England  has  been  from  the 
time  of  the  Conquest  to  the  present  day,  from  the 
Norman  and  the  Plantagenet  to  the  Stuart  and 
the  Guelph.  It  was  in  the  old  abbey  that  William 
the  Conqueror  solemnly  returned  thanks  after  his 
victory  over  King  Harold  at  the  battle  of  Hast- 
ings, and  here  he  was  crowned,  on  Christmas  Day 
following,  by  the  side  of  the  tomb  of  the  Confes- 
sor. Here,  in  September,  1 1 89,  Richard  the  First 
was  crowned  in  the  presence  of  the  "assembled 
archbishops,  bishops,  earls,  barons,  and  a  great 
number  of  knights ;  "  and  here  on  the  27th  of 
May,  1199,  the  crown  was  placed  on  the  head  of 
his  brother,  King  John,  "after  the  manner  then 
used,  with  great  solemnity,  and  no  less  rejoicing 
of  all  such  as  were  present." 

Henry  the  Third,  too,  was  crowned  in  the 
abbey,  when  only  ten  years  old,  wearing,  we  are 
told,  a  plain  circlet  of  gold,  the  crown  worn  by  his 
predecessors,  as  well  as  the  rest  of  the  regalia, 
having  been  lost  by  King  John  in  the  Wash  be- 
tween Lincolnshire  and  Norfolk.  Whether  the 
church  built  by  the  Confessor  had  fallen  to  decay, 


448  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

or  whether  Henry  the  Third  was  desirous  of  erect- 
ing a  more  magnificent  structure  on  its  site,  is  not 
certain  ;  but,  in  the  year  1244,  the  latter  monarch 
commenced  the  demolition  of  the  old  edifice,  and, 
on  the  1 3th  of  October,  1269,  a  great  portion  of 
the  beautiful  abbey  as  it  now  stands  —  namely, 
the  eastern  part,  with  the  choir,  to  some  distance 
beyond  the  transept  —  was  opened  for  divine  ser- 
vice. At  the  time  of  Henry's  death,  the  work 
had  proceeded  ho  further  than  the  fourth  arch 
west  of  the  middle  tower,  and  even  the  vaulted 
roof  of  this  part  was  not  completed  till  1296. 
Edward  the  First  proceeded  with  the  good  work 
which  his  predecessor  had  commenced ;  but  the 
two  towers  were  not  built  till  after  the  Restoration 
of  Charles  the  Second,  and  the  centre  tower  is 
still  wanting. 

At  the  same  time  that  the  finished  portion  of 
the  new  church  was  opened  for  divine  worship, 
King  Henry  removed  the  remains  of  Edward  the 
Confessor  from  their  old  resting-place  into  the 
present  "chapel  at  the  back  of  the  high  altar, 
and  there  laid  them  in  a  rich  shrine,"  which  he 
had  piously  caused  to  be  erected.  The  ceremony 
was  performed  with  great  solemnity  and  splendour, 
the  king  and  many  of  his  nobles,  clothed  in  white 
garments,  passing  the  preceding  night  within  the 
walls  of  the  abbey,  watching  and  performing 
their  devotions.  According  to  a  passage  in 
Wykes's  "Chronicle,"  "The  king,  being  grieved 


WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  449 

that  the  reliques  of  St.  Edward  were  so  poorly 
enshrined,  and  not  elevated,  resolved  that  so  great 
a  luminary  should  be  placed  on  high  as  a  candle- 
stick to  enlighten  the  Church.  He  therefore,  on 
the  3d  of  the  ides  of  October,  the  day  of  St. 
Edward's  first  translation,  summoned  the  nobility, 
magistrates,  and  burgesses  of  the  realm  to  West- 
minster, to  attend  this  solemn  affair.  At  that 
time,  the  coffin  being  taken  out  of  the  old  shrine, 
the  king  and  his  brother,  the  King  of  the  Romans, 
carried  it  upon  their  shoulders  in  view  of  the 
whole  church  ;  his  son  Edward,  Edmund,  Earl  of 
Lancaster,  the  Earl  Warenne,  and  the  Lord  Philip 
Basset,  with  as  many  other  nobles  as  could  come 
near  to  touch  it,  supporting  it  with  their  hands  to 
the  new  shrine,  which  was  of  gold,  adorned  with 
precious  stones,  and  placed  in  an  exalted  situa- 
tion." At  the  conclusion  of  the  ceremony  the 
king  gave  a  magnificent  banquet  in  the  neighbour- 
ing palace  to  all  who  had  been  summoned  to 
attend. 

We  must  not  omit  to  mention  another  remark- 
able religious  ceremony  which  took  place  in  West- 
minster Abbey  in  this  reign.  It  occurred  on  St. 
Edward's  Day,  1247,  on  the  occasion  of  the  king 
presenting  to  the  abbey  church  some  of  the 
blood  which  was  asserted  to  have  trickled  from 
the  wounds  of  our  Saviour  on  the  cross,  and  which 
had  been  sent  him  from  Jerusalem  by  the  Knights 
Templars  and  Hospitallers,  the  genuineness  of  the 


450  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

holy  relic  being  attested  by  the  Patriarch  of  Jeru- 
salem and  the  archbishop,  bishops,  and  abbots  of 
the  Holy  Land.  Having  previously  sent  sum- 
monses to  his  nobles  and  prelates  to  attend  him, 
Henry,  on  the  appointed  day,  rode  in  a  magnificent 
procession  to  St.  Paul's,  where  a  beautiful  vase  of 
crystal,  containing  the  sacred  relic,  was  delivered 
over  to  him.  Matthew  Paris,  who  was  present  at 
the  ceremony,  describes  the  scene.  "The  king," 
he  says,  "  commanded  that  all  the  priests  of  Lon- 
don, habited  in  costly  dresses,  and  bearing  stand- 
ards, crosses,  and  lighted  tapers,  should,  early  on 
the  morning  of  St.  Edward's  Day,  meet  reverently 
at  St.  Paul's.  Thither  the  king  himself  came, 
and  with  the  utmost  veneration  receiving  the  vase 
with  the  treasure,  he  bore  it  openly  before  him, 
walking  slowly,  in  a  humble  garb,  and  without 
stopping,  to  the  church  of  Westminster.  He  held 
the  vase  with  both  hands,  keeping  his  eyes  fixed 
on  the  vessel,  or  looking  up  to  heaven,  whilst  pro- 
ceeding along  the  dirty  and  uneven  road."  A 
pall  was  held  over  him  on  four  spears,  and  two 
persons  supported  his  arms,  lest  the  fatigue  should 
be  too  much  for  him.  Near  Durham  House  in 
the  Strand  (the  palace  of  the  bishops  of  that  see), 
he  was  met  by  the  abbot  and  monks  of  West- 
minster, accompanied  by  other  prelates  and  ab- 
bots, who,  "singing  and  rejoicing,  with  tears,  in 
the  Holy  Spirit,"  accompanied  the  procession  to 
the  abbey.  Henry,  unfatigued,  having  carried  the 


WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  451 

vase  around  the  palace  and  the  monastery,  finally 
delivered  it  in  great  state,  and  in  the  presence  of 
an  immense  concourse  of  people,  to  the  custody 
of  the  abbot  and  monks,  to  be  preserved  by  them 
as  a  relic  beyond  price.  "  To  describe  the  whole 
course  and  order  of  the  procession  and  feast  kept 
that  day,"  says  Holinshed,  "would  require  a  special 
treatise ;  but  this  is  not  to  be  forgotten,  that  the 
same  day  the  Bishop  of  Norwich  preached  before 
the  king  in  commendation  of  that  relic,  pronounc- 
ing six  years  and  one  hundred  and  sixteen  days  of 
pardon  granted  by  the  bishops  there  to  all  that 
came  to  reverence  it." 

It  must  have  been  a  striking  scene,  when,  in 
the  commencement  of  the  succeeding  reign,  the 
barons  swore  fealty  to  the  young  and  warlike 
Edward  the  First,  before  the  high  altar  in  West- 
minster Abbey.  Notwithstanding  he  was  con- 
stantly absent  in  his  wars  in  Scotland  and  Wales, 
the  new  monarch  piously  proceeded  in  the  work 
of  rebuilding  the  abbey  church,  and,  moreover, 
says  Stow,  "he  caused  his  father's  sepulchre  at 
Westminster  to  be  richly  garnished  with  precious 
stones  of  jasper,  which  he  had  brought  out  of 
France  for  that  purpose." 

In  1306  we  find  the  high  altar  of  the  abbey 
presenting  another  striking  scene.  Edward  the 
First,  determined  on  the  subjugation  of  Scotland, 
and  desirous  of  strengthening  his  army,  issued  a 
proclamation  for  the  attendance  at  the  palace  of 


452  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

Westminster,  at  the  feast  of  Pentecost,  of  all  those 
who  were  heirs  to  estates  held  by  military  tenure. 
Accordingly,  we  are  told,  three  hundred  young 
men,  the  sons  of  earls,  barons,  and  knights,  as- 
sembled at  the  appointed  time,  and  received 
presents  of  purple,  silk,  fine  linen,  and  girdles 
embroidered  with  gold,  according  to  their  respect- 
ive rank.  At  night,  by  the  king's  command,  the 
Prince  of  Wales,  with  some  of  the  young  men  of 
the  highest  rank,  kept  watch  within  the  abbey, 
when,  we  are  informed,  such  was  the  clamour 
created  by  their  trumpets,  pipes,  and  vocifera- 
tions, that  the  service  of  the  choir  was  rendered 
perfectly  inaudible.  The  next  day,  the  ceremo- 
nies were  renewed,  when  the  king  girded  his  son 
with  the  belt  of  a  knight,  and  presented  him  with 
the  Duchy  of  Aquitaine.  The  prince,  being  now 
knighted,  proceeded  to  the  high  altar,  to  gird, 
in  his  turn,  the  young  men  his  companions,  when 
such  was  the  pressure  of  the  crowd  that,  notwith- 
standing each  knight  was  guarded  by  at  least 
three  men  at  arms,  two  died,  and  several  fainted 
away.  The  crowd  being  removed  from  the  altar, 
the  king  next  made  his  appearance,  and  the 
ancient  chivalrous  ceremonial  took  place  of  mak- 
ing a  bow  before  the  swan,  the  vow,  in  the 
present  instance,  being  rendered  the  more  remark- 
able from  its  being  one  of  eternal  hatred  and  hos- 
tility sworn  against  the  Scottish  nation.  With 
great  pomp  and  ceremony,  two  swans,  covered 


WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  453 

with  gold  network  and  other  ornaments,  were 
brought  to  the  altar.  Regarding  them  with  a 
fixed  look,  Edward,  surrounded  by  his  nobles  and 
in  the  midst  of  his  people,  swore  a  solemn  oath, 
"  by  the  God  of  heaven  and  the  swans,"  that  he 
would  revenge  himself  on  the  Scots  ;  adjuring  his 
son  and  the  assembled  barons,  that,  should  he  die 
before  he  had  accomplished  his  purpose,  they 
should  carry  his  body  before  them  into  Scotland, 
and  not  commit  it  to  the  tomb  till  they  had 
humbled  their  enemies  to  the  dust.  Edward,  as 
is  well  known,  died  on  his  way  to  Scotland,  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  Carlisle.  In  his  last  mo- 
ments he  sent  for  the  prince  his  son,  and  enjoined 
him  in  the  most  solemn  manner  to  prosecute  the 
war,  and  to  carry  his  "  dead  bones "  with  the 
army  till  he  had  pierced  the  very  extremity  of 
Scotland.  "  He  called  his  eldest  son,"  says  Frois- 
sart,  "and  made  him  swear  by  the  saints,  in  the 
presence  of  all  the  barons,  that  as  soon  as  he 
should  be  dead  he  would  have  his  body  boiled  in 
a  large  cauldron,  until  the  flesh  should  be  sepa- 
rated from  the  bones ;  that  he  would  have  the 
flesh  buried  and  the  bones  preserved ;  and  that 
every  time  the  Scots  should  rebel  against  him  he 
would  summon  his  people  and  carry  against  them 
the  bones  of  his  father ;  for  he  believed  most 
firmly  that,  as  long  as  his  bones  should  be  carried 
against  the  Scots,  those  Scots  would  never  be 
victorious."  How  far  the  second  Edward  followed 


454  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

the  dying  injunctions  of  his  father  is  well  known, 
but  we  must  not  depart  from  our  history  of  the 
abbey. 

The  coronation  of  Edward  the  Second  took 
place  in  Westminster  Abbey  with  great  magnifi- 
cence. The  procession  from  the  palace  to  the 
church  was  headed  by  the  earl  marshal,  Aylmer, 
Earl  of  Pembroke,  carrying  the  golden  spurs  ; 
then  came  the  Earl  of  Hereford,  holding  the 
sceptre  with  the  cross  ;  then  the  king's  cousin, 
Henry  of  Lancaster,  carrying  a  second  sceptre 
surmounted  with  the  dove ;  next  followed  the 
Earls  of  Lancaster,  Lincoln,  and  Warwick,  bear- 
ing the  swords  of  state ;  afterward  came  four 
noblemen,  carrying  the  regal  vestments  ;  then  the 
high  treasurer  with  the  patera  of  the  chalice  of 
Edward  the  Confessor ;  then  the  king's  favour- 
ite, Piers  de  Gaveston,  bearing  the  crown  orna- 
mented with  precious  stones  ;  and  lastly,  Edward 
himself,  walking  under  a  splendid  canopy  sup- 
ported by  the  barons  of  the  Cinque  Ports.  The 
following  is  the  coronation  oath  taken  by  Edward 
the  Second,  with  its  ancient  orthography : 

"  Interrogacio  Episcopi.  —  Sire,  volez  vous  graunter  et 
garder,  et  par  vostre  serment  confermir,  au  poeple  d'Engle- 
terre,  les  leys  et  les  coustumes  a  eux  grauntez  par  les 
aunciens  Rois  d'Angleterre  voz  predecessours,  droiterels  et 
devoutez  a  Dieu,  et  nomement  les  leys,  les  coustumes,  et 
les  fraunchises  grauntes  au  clergie  et  au  poeple  par  le 
glorious  Roy  Seint  Edward,  vostre  predecessour  ? 


WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  455 

"  Responsio  Regis.  —  Je  les  graunt  et  promet. 

"  Sire,  garderez  vous  a  Dieu  et  a  Saint  Eglise,  et  au 
clergie  et  au  poeple,  pais  et  acord  en  Dieu  entierement 
solonc  vostre  poer  ? 

"  Je  le  garderez. 

"  Sire,  ferez  vous  paraistre  en  touz  les  jugementz  ouele 
et  droite  justice  et  descrecion  en  misericorde  et  verite  a 
vostre  poeple  ? 

"  Je  le  ferez. 

"  Sire,  graunterez  vous  a  tenir  et  a  garder  les  leys  et  les 
coustumes  droitureles,  les  quoy  la  comunaute  de  vostre 
Reaume  aura  esleuz,  et  les  defenderez  et  afforcerez  al 
honeur  de  Dieu  a  vostre  poer  ? 

"  Je  les  graunte  et  promets.'' 

The  oath  having  been  taken  by  the  king, 
the  ceremony  of  anointing  and  consecrating  was 
performed  by  the  Bishop  of  Winchester,  the 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury  being  prevented  from 
attending  in  consequence  of  bodily  weakness.  The 
king's  right  shoe  and  spur  were  put  on  by  the 
queen's  uncle,  brother  to  the  King  of  France ;  his 
left  shoe  by  the  Earl  of  Pembroke,  and  his  left 
spur  by  the  Earl  of  Cornwall.  Then  the  king  took 
the  crown  from  the  altar,  and  delivered  it  to  the 
bishop,  who  placed  it  on  the  king's  head ;  and  the 
clergy  at  the  same  time  commencing  singing 
the  Te  Deum,  the  king  was  conducted  to  a  raised 
seat  in  the  choir  at  some  distance  in  advance  of 
the  altar.  The  ceremony  of  the  queen's  corona- 
tion next  followed,  after  which,  at  the  conclusion 
of  the  mass,  the  king  again  advanced  to  the  high 


456  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

altar  and  received  the  sacrament  in  the  midst  of 
the  assembled  bishops  and  abbots.  The  ceremonial 
being  now  concluded,  the  king,  with  the  crown  on 
his  head  and  the  sceptre  in  his  hand,  returned  to 
the  palace  with  the  same  procession  which  had 
attended  him  to  the  abbey,  and  afterward  partook 
of  a  sumptuous  banquet  in  Westminster  Hall. 

When  Edward  the  Third,  after  his  merciless 
ravages  and  spoliations  in  France,  consented,  in 
1361,  to  the  treaty  of  peace  with  that  country,  by 
which  John,  King  of  France,  obtained  his  liberty, 
we  find  Edward  and  his  sons  ratifying  it  with 
solemn  oaths  and  with  great  ceremony  in  the 
abbey  church  of  Westminster.  Mass  having  been 
performed  by  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  King 
Edward  and  the  princes  arose  in  the  presence  of 
the  French  hostages,  and,  the  torches  having  been 
lighted,  and  "  crosses  held  over  the  eucharist  and 
missal,"  swore  upon  the  "  sacred  body  of  our 
Lord,"  to  preserve  inviolate  the  peace  which  had 
that  day  been  agreed  upon.  The  same  oath  was 
then  taken  by  the  English  barons  who  were  pres- 
ent, and  was  elsewhere  repeated  by  the  French 
nobles  who  were  in  England. 

Richard  the  Second,  when  in  his  eleventh  year, 
was  crowned  at  Westminster  with  great  magnif- 
icence ;  when  so  fatiguing  was  the  long  and  tedious 
ceremony  that,  at  the  close  of  the  day,  he  was 
compelled  to  be  carried  to  his  apartment  in  a  litter. 
A  few  years  afterward  the  abbey  had  a  narrow 


WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  457 

escape  from  the  ignorance  and  violence  of  Wat 
Tyler  and  his  followers.  They  broke  open  the 
exchequer,  destroyed  the  records,  violated  the 
sanctuary,  and  put  to  death  one  of  the  king's 
servants,  who  vainly  clung  to  the  shrine  of  Edward 
the  Confessor  for  protection.  As  soon  as  the  rebels 
had  taken  their  departure,  the  king  proceeded 
to  the  abbey  with  some  of  his  barons  to  ascertain 
the  extent  of  mischief  which  they  had  committed. 
"  After  dinner,  about  two  of  the  clock,"  says  Stow, 
"the  king  went  from  the  wardrobe,  called  the 
royal,  toward  Westminster,  attended  by  the  num- 
ber of  two  hundred  persons,  to  visit  St.  Edward's 
shrine,  and  to  see  if  the  commons  had  done  any 
mischief  there.  The  abbot  and  convent  of  that 
abbey,  with  the  canons  and  vicars  of  St.  Stephen's 
Chapel,  met  him  with  rich  copes  in  procession, 
and  led  him  by  the  charnel-house  into  the  abbey ; 
then  to  the  church,  and  so  to  the  high  altar,  where 
he  devoutly  prayed  and  offered.  After  which  he 
spake  with  the  anchoret,  to  whom  he  confessed 
himself  ;  then  he  went  to  the  chapel,  called  our 
Lady  in  the  Pew,  where  he  made  his  prayers." 
It  was  on  this  very  day,  after  quitting  Westmin- 
ster, that  the  young  king  met  the  rioters  at  Smith- 
field,  on  the  famous  occasion  when  the  valiant 
Lord  Mayor  of  London,  Sir  William  Walworth, 
struck  their  leader,  Wat  Tyler,  to  the  earth,  in 
the  presence  of  his  followers. 

Let    us   introduce    a  description   of   one   more 


458  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

splendid  ceremony  which  took  place  in  Westmin- 
ster Abbey,  and  then  proceed  to  notice  the  prin- 
cipal objects  of  interest  in  the  ancient  pile.  The 
occasion  to  which  we  refer  is  the  coronation  of 
Henry  the  Fourth,  which  took  place  on  the  I3th 
of  October,  1399.  "Having  confessed  himself,  as 
he  had  good  need  to  do,"  says  Froissart,  "the 
king  went  to  the  church  in  procession,  and  all 
the  lords  with  him  in  their  robes  of  scarlet,  furred 
with  minever,  barred  on  their  shoulders  according 
to  their  degrees,  and  over  the  king  was  borne  a 
cloth  of  estate  of  blue  and  four  bells  of  gold,  and 
it  was  borne  by  four  burgesses  of  the  port  of 
Dover  and  others.  And  on  each  side  of  him  he 
had  a  sword  borne,  the  one  the  sword  of  the 
Church,  and  the  other  the  sword  of  justice.  The 
sword  of  the  Church  his  son  the  prince  did  bear, 
and  the  sword  of  justice,  the  Earl  of  Northumber- 
land, and  the  Earl  of  Westmoreland  bore  the  scep- 
tre. Thus  they  entered  into  the  church  about 
nine  of  the  clock,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  church 
there  was  a  high  scaffold  all  covered  with  red, 
and  in  the  midst  thereof  there  was  a  chair-royal 
covered  with  cloth  of  gold.  Then  the  king  sat 
down  in  the  chair,  and  so  sat  in  estate-royal,  sav- 
ing he  had  not  on  the  crown,  but  sat  bareheaded. 
Then,  at  the  four  corners  of  the  scaffold,  the 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury  showed  unto  the  people 
how  God  had  sent  unto  them  a  man  to  be  their 
king,  and  demanded  if  they  were  content  that  he 


WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  459 

should  be  consecrated  and  crowned  as  their  king ; 
and  they  all  with  one  voice  said  '  Yea ! '  and  held 
up  their  hands,  promising  faith  and  obedience. 
Then  the  king  rose,  and  went  down  to  the  high 
altar  to  be  consecrated,  at  which  consecration  there 
were  two  archbishops  and  ten  bishops ;  and  before 
the  altar  there  he  was  despoiled  out  of  all  vestures 
of  estate,  and  there  he  was  anointed  in  six  places, 
—  on  the  head,  the  breast,  and  on  the  two  shoul- 
ders behind,  and  on  the  hands.  Then  a  bonnet 
was  set  on  his  head,  and,  while  he  was  anointing, 
the  clergy  sang  the  litany,  and  such  service  as 
they  sing  at  the  hallowing  of  the  font.  Then  the 
king  was  apparelled  like  a  prelate  of  the  Church 
with  a  cope  of  red  silk,  and  a  pair  of  spurs  with  a 
point  without  a  rowel ;  then  the  sword  of  justice 
was  drawn  out  of  the  sheath  and  hallowed,  and 
then  it  was  taken  to  the  king,  who  did  put  it  again 
into  the  sheath ;  then  the  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury did  gird  the  sword  about  him ;  then  St. 
Edward's  crown  was  brought  forth  and  blessed, 
and  then  the  archbishop  did  set  it  on  the  king's 
head.  After  mass  the  king  departed  out  of  the 
church  in  the  same  estate,  and  went  to  his  palace, 
and  there  was  a  fountain  that  ran  by  divers 
branches  white  wine  and  red." 

There  may,  perhaps,  be  other  religious  edifices 
in  Europe  which  may  boast  as  many  sumptuous 
monuments  to  kings  and  statesmen  and  heroes  as 
Westminster  Abbey,  but  in  what  church  or  in 


460  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

what  cathedral  shall  we  find  a  spot  possessed  of 
such  unique  interest  as  Poets'  Corner !  It  would 
almost  amount  to  affectation,  to  endeavour,  by  any 
ornament  of  language  or  extraneous  observations, 
to  enhance  the  emotions  which  even  the  most  cold 
and  unimaginative  must  feel  on  entering  this  hal- 
lowed spot.  It  is  sufficient  to  remember  that, 
beneath  and  around  us,  lies  the  dust  of  those 
gifted  beings,  whose  immortal  effusions  of  fancy 
and  genius  have  so  often  kindled  our  imaginations 
or  melted  our  hearts.  Many  of  them,  too,  were 
in  their  lifetimes  the  children  of  misfortune,  —  for, 
alas  !  misfortune  and  genius  are  too  often  united, 
and  the  laurel  has  too  often  been  moistened  with 
tears,  —  and  the  emotions,  therefore,  which  are 
always  excited  by  a  pilgrimage  to  the  tomb  of 
genius  are  doubled,  in  the  present  instance,  by 
the  memory  of  many  a  tale  of  misery  and  priva- 
tion ;  of  many  a  struggle  with  penury,  and  many 
a  triumph  over  neglect. 

Almost  side  by  side  with  the  author  of  the  "  Can- 
terbury Tales  " — the  first  of  our  poets  who  was 
buried  here  —  lie  the  remains  of  him  to  whom  we 
owe  the  glorious  imagery  of  the  "  Faerie  Queene ; " 
the  eye  rests  on  the  mouldering  tomb  of  Chaucer, 
and  now  on  that  of  Spenser,  who,  by  his  own  wish, 
was  buried  near  the  great  father  of  English  verse. 
On  this  spot  it  was  that  Spenser  was  lowered  into 
the  earth,  while  the  great  and  the  noble  stood 
around  the  grave  of  him  whom  in  his  lifetime  they 


WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  461 

had  allowed  to  starve ;  and  here  it  was  that  all  the 
poets  of  the  day  —  including,  perhaps,  the  immor- 
tal Shakespeare  himself  —  threw  poetical  tributes 
on  the  coffin  which  contained  his  sacred  remains. 
Raising  our  eyes,  the  memorable  epitaph,  "  O  rare 
Ben  Jonson,"  tells  us  that  we  are  standing  on  the 
resting-place  of  the  great  dramatic  poet ;  he  whose 
inimitable  humour,  and  exquisite  and  fanciful 
masks,  have  been  the  delight  of  successive  gen- 
erations. Passing  on,  we  find  ourselves  at  one 
moment  standing  by  the  tomb  of  Dryden,  and  now 
by  that  of  Cowley ;  and,  as  we  read  on  the  latter 
the  name  of  its  founder,  the  Duke  of  Buckingham, 
we  smile  to  think  how  the  frolic  duke  cudgelled 
the  one  poet  and  raised  a  tomb  over  the  other. 
There  are  monuments  also  to  poets  whose  names 
are  scarcely  less  familiar  to  us  in  the  literary  his- 
tory of  our  country.  Now  the  eye  glances  on  the 
tomb  of  Michael  Drayton,  —  the  courtier  poet,  — 
the  author  of  the  "  Polyolbion,"  the  unfortunate 
dependent  at  the  tables  of  the  great ;  advancing 
to  another  spot,  we  stand  by  the  tomb  of  one  more 
fortunate,  Nicholas  Rowe,  the  translator  of  Lucan's 
"  Pharsalia,"  and  the  author  of  the  "  Fair  Peni- 
tent "  and  "Jane  Shore;"  now  we  stand  by  the 
mural  monument  of  Christopher  Anstey,  the  author 
of  the  witty  "  New  Bath  Guide  ;  "  and  now  by  that 
of  Thomas  Shadwell,  once  the  rival  of  the  great 
Dryden,  and  immortalised  by  him  as  the  original 
of  Mac  Flecnoe.  How  singular  that  the  two  rival 


462  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

poets  —  he  who  penned  the  inimitable  satire,  and 
he  who  writhed  under  its  bitterness  —  should  rest 
peaceably  together  under  the  same  roof  ! 

Let  us  turn  from  the  monument  of  the  states- 
man and  poet,  Matthew  Prior,  to  that  of  his  friend, 
—  the  gentle,  the  beloved,  the  single-hearted,  Gay. 
We  have  only  to  glance  over  the  inscription  on 
the  tomb  of  the  latter,  to  perceive  that  it  was  the 
affectionate  attachment  of  the  noble  Queensberry 
and  his  fair  duchess  which  raised  the  interesting 
monument  over  the  dust  of  the  departed  poet. 
How  forcibly  do  these  names  recall  to  us  the  history 
of  a  past  age !  those  days  when  the  duchess  was 
the  lovely  "  Kitty  "  of  Prior's  verse,  and  when  — 

"  Gay  was  nursed  in  Queensberry's  ducal  halls." 

When  we  see  those  familiar  names  inscribed  on 
the  same  tomb,  can  we  help  regretting  that  the 
patron  and  the  poet  —  those  who,  divided  as  they 
were  by  the  distinctions  of  rank,  were  yet  so  united 
by  friendship  and  love  —  were  not  laid  side  by 
side,  tenants  of  the  same  tomb ! 

"Thanks  to  the  great  for  what  they  took  away, 
And  what  they  left  me,  for  they  left  me  Gay ; 
Left  me  to  see  neglected  genius  bloom, 
Neglected  die,  —  and  write  it  on  his  tomb ; 
Of  all  his  blameless  life  this  sole  return, 
My  verse,  and  Queensberry  weeping  o'er  his  tomb ! " 

We  have  as  yet  merely  recorded  the  names  of 
those  poets  whose  monuments  are  conspicuous 


WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  463 

objects  in  Poets'  Corner.  But  here,  too,  lie  the 
remains  of  men  of  a  different  order  of  genius,  but 
whose  names  are  scarcely  less  illustrious.  Here 
is  the  monument  of  the  great  composer,  Handel, 
whose  glorious  melody  has  so  often  enraptured 
thousands,  as  it  rolled  along  the  vaulted  roof  and 
fretted  aisles  beneath  which  the  magician  sleeps  so 
calmly ;  here  rests  the  great  antiquary,  Camden, 
and  the  memorable  critic  and  scholar,  Isaac  Casau- 
bon  ;  from  the  monuments  of  the  celebrated  phil- 
osophers and  divines,  Isaac  Barrow,  Hales,  and 
South,  we  turn  to  the  memorial  of  the  gay  and 
witty  St.  Evremond,  associated  with  the  frolic 
annals  of  the  court  of  Charles  the  Second  ;  and 
from  the  monument  of  St.  Evremond,  we  turn  to 
the  simple  tribute  to  Granville  Sharp,  the  philan- 
thropist, or  to  the  conspicuous  recumbent  figure 
of  Doctor  Busby,  the  famous  headmaster  of  West- 
minster School,  the  schoolmaster  of  Dryden,  and 
of  half  the  poets  and  prelates  of  the  seventeenth 
century. 

Neither  must  we  forget  those  whose  mimic 
genius  awoke  at  will  the  laughter  or  the  tear,  and 
who  drew  down  upon  them  the  applause  of  thou- 
sands in  the  lighted  theatre,  in  the  past  days  when 
they  fretted  their  hour  upon  the  stage.  Let  us 
linger  a  moment  beneath  the  sumptuous  monu- 
ment of  Garrick,  to  ponder  on  his  genius  and  his 
triumphs ;  and  then  let  us  wander  on  to  the  hum- 
bler memorial  of  the  scarcely  less  celebrated  actor, 


464  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

Barton  Booth.  He  it  was,  who,  when  he  was  still 
a  thoughtless  boy  at  Westminster  School,  —  hav- 
ing his  head  turned  by  the  sensation  which  he 
created  when  acting  in  one  of  Terence's  plays, 
and  forgetful  of  his  descent  from  an  ancient  family, 
—  quitted  the  tutorship  of  Busby,  of  whom  he  was 
the  favourite  pupil,  and,  with  apparently  no  other 
advantages  but  melody  of  voice,  and  beauty  and 
elegance  of  person,  became,  by  industry  and  appli- 
cation, the  great  actor,  whose  exquisite  delineation 
of  human  passions  drew  down  upon  him  the  ap- 
plause of  millions  in  his  lifetime,  and  after  his 
death  procured  him  the  honour  of  a  burial-place  in 
Poets'  Corner.  From  the  monument  of  Booth, 
we  pass  on  to  that  of  the  charming  actress,  Mrs. 
Pritchard.  Lastly,  though  without  any  record  of 
their  resting-place,  here  rest  the  remains  of  the 
great  actor,  John  Henderson,  who,  we  are  told, 
whether  he  acted  in  the  character  of  Falstaff, 
or  Hamlet,  was  equally  great  in  both,  —  the  same 
inimitable  actor,  whether  he  figured  in  the  ludicrous 
or  in  the  sublime. 

In  wandering  through  Poets'  Corner,  let  us  not 
forget  that  beneath  our  feet  lie  the  remains  of 
many  of  the  illustrious  dead,  to  whose  memory 
the  gratitude  of  their  countrymen  has  reared  no 
memorial  of  their  resting-place.  On  the  pavement, 
however,  scattered  among  the  names  and  epitaphs 
of  persons  of  little  note,  may  be  traced,  with  some 
slight  difficulty,  the  gravestones  of  no  less  remark- 


WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  465 

able  persons  than  Thomas  Parr,  who  lived  in  the 
reign  of  ten  sovereigns,  and  who  did  penance  at 
the  age  of  one  hundred  and  thirty  for  being  the 
father  of  an  illegitimate  child ;  of  the  celebrated 
poet,  Sir  William  Davenant ;  of  Macpherson,  the 
translator,  or  rather  author  of  "  Ossian  ;  "  of  Cum- 
berland, the  dramatic  writer ;  of  Doctor  Johnson  ; 
of  Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan ;  and  lastly,  of 
Thomas  Campbell,  the  author  of  "The  Exile  of 
Erin"  and  "Hohenlinden."  To  the  disgrace 
alike  of  their  contemporaries  and  of  posterity,  the 
burial-places  of  the  great  dramatic  poet,  Francis 
Beaumont,  and  of  Sir  John  Denham,  the  author 
of  "  Cooper's  Hill,"  are  distinguished  neither  by 
name  nor  date. 

If  there  are  poets  buried  in  Poets'  Corner  to 
whom  there  are  no  monuments,  so  also  are  there 
monuments  to  poets  whose  burial-places  are  far 
away.  Shakespeare  lies  buried  at  Stratford-on- 
Avon,  and  Milton  in  the  church  of  St.  Giles's, 
Cripplegate,  where  his  body  was  discovered  a  few 
years  since,  and  one  of  his  fingers  converted  into 
a  tobacco-stopper.  John  Phillips,  the  author  of 
"The  Splendid  Shilling,"  lies  interred  in  Here- 
ford Cathedral ;  Samuel  Butler,  the  author  of 
"  Hudibras,"  in  the  churchyard  of  St.  Paul's, 
Covent  Garden  ;  Addison  in  Henry  the  Seventh's 
Chapel  ;  Thomson  at  Richmond,  in  Surrey  ;  Gold- 
smith in  the  Temple  churchyard ;  Gray  in  the 
churchyard  of  Stoke  Pogis,  and  Mason,  I  know 


466  MEMORIALS  OF   LONDON. 

not  where.  That  Poets'  Corner  should  have  been 
selected  to  hold  the  monuments  of  these  cele- 
brated men  is  in  a  great  degree  to  be  regretted, 
inasmuch  as  we  are  apt  to  misplace  our  sentiment 
by  imagining  that  we  are  standing  on  the  dust  of 
departed  genius,  whereas  we  are  only  gazing  on 
their  cenotaphs. 

Curiously  misplaced  among  the  monuments  to 
poets  and  philosophers,  may  be  traced,  between 
the  recumbent  effigies  of  South  and  Busby,  part 
of  the  half-ruined  tomb  of  Anne  of  Cleves.  We 
might  be  inclined  to  shed  a  tear  over  the  grave  of 
an  unfortunate  princess,  who  had  been  conducted 
from  a  distant  land,  and  perhaps  a  beloved  home, 
to  share  the  bed  of  so  unfeeling  a  tyrant  as  Henry 
the  Eighth ;  but,  unfortunately,  the  ridiculous  is  apt 
to  prevail  over  the  sublime,  and  we  call  to  mind 
rather  the  obese  and  ill-favoured  female,  of  whom 
Henry  inquired,  when  she  was  first  introduced  to 
him,  "  if  they  had  brought  him  a  Flanders  mare." 

Passing  to  the  right  through  an  iron  grating, 
we  find  ourselves  in  the  chapel  of  St.  Benedict. 
Among  other  memorials  which  it  contains  is  a  fine 
monument  to  the  memory  of  Frances,  Countess  of 
Hertford,  daughter  to  the  great  admiral,  Lord 
Howard  of  Effingham  ;  another  to  Lionel,  Earl  of 
Middlesex,  lord  treasurer  in  the  reign  of  James 
the  First ;  and  lastly,  the  tomb  of  the  famous 
Archbishop  Langham,  who,  as  his  epitaph  informs 
us,  rose  from  being  a  monk  of  the  adjoining  abbey 


WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  467 

to  be  Primate  and  Chancellor  of  England,  and 
Bishop-Cardinal  of  Preneste.  As  we  quit  St.  Bene- 
dict's Chapel;  facing  us  is  the  ancient  tomb  of 
Sebert,  King  of  the  East  Saxons,  and  of  Athel- 
goda,  his  queen,  who  both  died  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  seventh  century.  Between  this  chapel, 
also,  and  that  of  St.  Edmund,  may  be  seen  a  monu- 
ment, once  richly  ornamented,  to  the  memory  of 
the  children  of  Henry  the  Third  and  Edward  the 
First. 

The  next  chapel  which  we  enter  is  that  of  St. 
Edmund,  which  is  rich  with  costly  and  ancient 
monuments.  Here  a  small  tomb  covers  the  re- 
mains of  William  of  Windsor  and  his  sister 
Blanche,  the  infant  children  of  Edward  the  Third ; 
and  here,  too,  distinguished  by  their  exquisite 
workmanship,  are  the  defaced  but  still  beautiful 
tombs  of  William  de  Valence,  Earl  of  Pembroke, 
half-brother  to  Henry  the  Third ;  of  John  of 
Eltham,  son  of  Edward  the  Second,  with  its  beau- 
tiful alabaster  effigy ;  and  of  Eleanor  de  Bohun, 
daughter  of  Humphrey  de  Bohun,  Earl  of  Hert- 
ford, and  wife  of  Thomas  of  Woodstock,  Duke 
of  Gloucester,  youngest  son  of  Edward  the  Third. 
Here  is  the  monument  which  Walpole  so  much 
admired,  of  Francis  Holies,  son  of  John,  Earl  of 
Clare,  which  the  bereaved  father  raised  to  the 
memory  of  his  deceased  son ;  and  lastly,  on  the 
pavement  may  be  traced  a  small  brass  plate, 
of  which  the  inscription,  now  almost  illegible, 


468  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

records  that  beneath  it  rest  the  remains  of  Robert 
de  Waldeby,  tutor  of  Edward  the  Black  Prince, 
afterward  Divinity  Professor  in  the  University  of 
Toulouse,  and  Archbishop  of  Dublin. 

From  the  chapel  of  St.  Edward  we  stroll  on  to 
that  of  St.  Nicholas.  Here,  as  in  the  preceding 
ones,  lie  the  remains  of  many  a  gallant  knight  and 
lovely  dame,  who  in  their  day  figured  in  the  tour- 
nament and  the  dance.  Here  is  the  tomb  of  Anne, 
Duchess  of  Somerset,  wife  of  the  great  Protector, 
and  of  Mildred,  wife  of  the  scarcely  less  celebrated 
Lord  Burleigh ;  the  names  of  the  Cliffords,  the 
Percys,  the  St.  Johns,  the  Sackvilles,  the  De 
Veres,  and  the  Stanleys  attract  the  eye  at  every 
glance ;  and  from  the  inscription  to  a  Stanley  who 
was  knighted  by  Henry  the  Seventh  on  the  field 
of  Bosworth,  we  turn  to  the  tomb  of  a  Cecil,  who 
was  lady  of  the  bedchamber  to  Queen  Elizabeth. 
Here  is  the  interesting  old  Gothic  tomb,  in  free- 
stone, of  Philippa,  wife  of  Edward  Plantagenet, 
Duke  of  York,  who  was  killed  at  the  battle  of 
Agincourt ;  and  here  also  is  the  beautiful  effigy  in 
brass  of  Sir  Humphrey  Stanley,  the  gallant  knight 
to  whom  we  have  alluded  as  having  been  knighted 
by  Henry  on  the  field  of  Bosworth.  Lastly,  we 
turn  to  the  fine  monument  of  Sir  George  Villiers, 
and  of  his  wife,  Mary  Beaumont,  created  Countess 
of  Buckingham,  the  father  and  mother  of  the  great 
favourite,  George  Villiers,  Duke  of  Buckingham. 

We  next  enter  the  small  but  beautiful  chapel  of 


WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  469 

St.  Paul's.  Now  the  eye  glances  on  the  effigy 
of  Giles,  Lord  Daubigny,  Knight  of  the  Garter, 
and  lord  chamberlain  to  Henry  the  Seventh,  and 
now  on  that  of  Sir  Dudley  Carleton,  the  cele- 
brated ambassador  in  the  reign  of  James  the 
First ;  now  on  the  monument  of  Francis,  Lord 
Cottington,  who  accompanied  Charles  the  First 
and  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  on  their  romantic 
expedition  to  Madrid ;  and  now  on  the  celebrated 
statesman,  William  Pulteney,  Earl  of  Bath  ;  and 
lastly,  from  the  interesting  and  ancient  Gothic 
tomb  of  Lewis  Robsart,  Lord  Bourchier,  standard- 
bearer  to  Henry  the  Fifth,  we  turn  to  Chantrey's 
colossal  statue  of  James  Watt,  doubtless  a  work 
of  great  merit,  but  which  is  sadly  misplaced 
among  the  mouldering  monuments  to  the  abbots 
and  knights  and  barons  of  a  past  age. 

Let  us  now  pass  into  the  chapel,  and  pause  by 
the  shrine  of  Edward  the  Confessor,  once  adorned 
with  costly  gems,  rubies,  sapphires,  onyxes,  and 
pearls,  but  now  presenting  a  melancholy  picture 
of  ruin,  desolation,  and  neglect.  The  once  beau- 
tiful shrine  was  the  work  of  Peter  Cavalini,  in 
the  reign  of  Henry  the  Third,  who  brought  from 
Rome,  says  Weever,  "  certain  workmen,  and  rich 
porphyry  stones,  whereof  he  made  that  curious, 
singular,  rare  pavement  before  the  high  altar ;  and 
with  these  stones  and  workmen  he  did  also  frame 
the  shrine  of  Edward  the  Confessor."  Here  lie 
the  remains  of  the  canonised  monarch,  and  of  his 


4/0  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

beautiful  and  gentle  Queen  Editha ;  on  this  mem- 
orable spot  our  early  sovereigns  took  their  vows 
and  paid  their  devotions ;  and  here  more  than  one 
of  our  sovereigns  were  interred  by  their  dying 
wish,  in  order  that  their  bones  might  lie  as  near 
as  possible  to  those  of  the  holy  Confessor.  It  was 
in  front  of  the  shrine  of  St.  Edward,  that  the 
barons  of  England,  laying  their  hands  on  the  dead 
body  of  Henry  the  Third,  swore  fealty  to  his 
young  son,  Edward  the  First,  then  in  the  Holy 
Land ;  and  lastly,  it  was  while  offering  up  his 
devotions  at  this  spot,  that  Henry  the  Fourth  was 
seized  with  the  fatal  attack  of  illness,  of  which 
he  died  a  few  hours  afterward  in  the  Jerusalem 
Chamber. 

Close  to  the  shrine  of  St.  Edward,  though  with- 
out a  monument,  lie  the  remains  of  the  pious  and 
charitable  Matilda,  daughter  of  Malcolm,  King  of 
Scotland,  and  wife  of  Henry  the  First.  The  next 
monument  in  point  of  antiquity  is  the  magnificent 
one  of  Henry  the  Third,  with  its  mosaic  work  of 
gold  and  scarlet,  its  beautiful  panels  of  porphyry, 
and  its  fine  recumbent  image  of  the  king  in  brass, 
said  to  be  the  first  brazen  effigy  ever  cast  in  Eng- 
land. The  second  of  our  Norman  kings  who  lies 
buried  here  is  Edward  the  First.  The  tomb  of 
this  great  monarch,  which  is  of  gray  unpolished 
marble,  modest,  simple,  and  unornamented,  was 
opened  in  1770,  by  permission  of  the  dean,  when 
a  most  interesting  spectacle  presented  itself.  "  On 


WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  471 

lifting  up  the  lid  of  the  tomb,  the  royal  body  was 
found  wrapped  in  a  strong  linen  cloth,  waxed  on 
the  inside ;  the  head  and  face  were  covered  with 
a  'sudarium,'  or  face-cloth  of  crimson  sarsenet, 
wrapped  into  three  folds,  conformable  to  the  nap- 
kin used  by  our  Saviour  in  his  way  to  the  cruci- 
fixion, as  we  are  assured  by  the  Church  of  Rome. 
On  flinging  open  the  external  mantle,  the  corpse 
was  discovered  in  all  the  ensigns  of  majesty,  richly 
habited.  The  body  was  wrapped  in  a  fine  linen 
cerecloth,  closely  fitted  to  every  part,  even  to  the 
very  fingers  and  face.  Over  the  cerecloth  was  a 
tunic  of  red  silk  damask,  above  that  a  stole  of  thick 
white  tissue  crossed  the  breast,  and  on  this,  at  six 
inches'  distance  from  each  other,  quatrefoils  fili- 
gree work  of  gilt  metal  set  with  false  stones,  imi- 
tating rubies,  sapphires,  and  amethysts,  etc.,  and 
the  intervals  between  the  quatrefoils  on  the  stole 
powdered  with  minute  white  beads,  tacked  down 
into  a  most  elegant  embroidery,  in  form  not  unlike 
what  is  called  the  true  lover's  knot.  Above  these 
habits  was  the  royal  mantle  of  silk  crimson  satin, 
fastened  on  the  left  shoulder  with  a  magnificent 
fibula,  of  gilt  metal  richly  chased,  and  ornamented 
with  four  pieces  of  red,  and  four  of  blue,  trans- 
parent paste,  and  twenty-four  more  pearls.  The 
corpse,  from  the  waist  downwards,  is  covered  with 
a  rich  cloth  of  figured  gold,  which  falls  down  to 
the  feet,  and  is  tucked  beneath  them.  On  the 
back  of  each  hand  was  a  quatrefoil  like  those  on 


472  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

the  stole.  In  his  right  hand  is  a  sceptre,  with  a 
cross  of  copper  gilt,  and  of  elegant  workmanship, 
reaching  to  the  right  shoulder.  In  the  left  hand 
is  the  rod  and  dove,  which  passes  over  the  shoulder 
and  reaches  the  royal  ear.  The  dove  stands  on 
a  ball  placed  on  three  ranges  of  oak  leaves  of  enam- 
elled green  ;  the  dove  is  white  enamel.  On  the 
head  is  a  crown  charged  with  trefoils  made  of  gilt 
metal.  The  head  is  lodged  in  the  cavity  of  the 
stone  coffin,  always  observable  in  those  recepta- 
cles for  the  dead." 

By  the  side  of  the  monument  of  Henry  the 
Third  is  that  of  Eleanor  of  Castile,  the  gentle 
and  beautiful  wife  of  Edward  the  First.  Her 
tomb  is  of  Petworth  marble,  and  on  it  rests  an 
effigy  of  copper  gilt,  lovely  as  the  queen  herself 
is  said  to  have  been  in  her  lifetime,  uninjured  by 
the  lapse  of  ages,  and  in  every  respect  indescrib- 
ably graceful  and  beautiful. 

We  next  turn  to  the  tomb  of  the  great  and  war- 
like Edward  the  Third.  His  figure,  remarkable  for 
its  dishevelled  hair  and  long  flowing  beard,  is  of 
copper,  once  gilt,  and  reclines  under  a  rich  Gothic 
shrine.  In  each  hand  is  a  sceptre,  and  around  the 
altar  tomb,  on  which  his  effigy  reposes,  are  figures 
of  his  children  in  brass. 

"  Mighty  victor,  mighty  lord, 

Low  on  his  funeral  couch  he  lies. 
No  pitying  heart,  no  eye,  afford 
A  tear  to  grace  his  obsequies." 


WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  473 

At  the  feet  of  Edward  rests  his  Queen  Philippa, 
whose  name  is  endeared  to  us  from  the  touching 
story  of  her  interceding  with  her  husband  to  save 
the  lives  of  the  heroic  burgesses  of  Calais.  Like 
that  of  her  husband,  the  tomb  of  Philippa  has  suf- 
fered severely  from  the  hands  of  barbarians  and 
the  silent  injuries  inflicted  by  time.  Of  the  fretted 
niches,  once  containing  the  statues  of  thirty  kings 
and  princes,  with  which  it  was  formerly  adorned, 
scarcely  a  trace  is  visible.  Not  far  from  the  tombs 
of  Philippa  and  her  husband  is  a  large  stone,  for- 
merly plated  with  brass,  beneath  which  rest  the 
remains  of  the  once  powerful  Thomas  of  Wood- 
stock, Duke  of  Gloucester,  son  of  Edward  the 
Third,  younger  brother  of  the  Black  Prince,  and 
uncle  to  Richard  the  Second. 

Close  to  the  tomb  of  Thomas  of  Woodstock  is 
that  of  his  unfortunate  nephew,  Richard  the  Sec- 
ond, and  of  his  consort,  Anne,  sister  of  Winceslaus, 
King  of  Bohemia.  Their  effigies,  of  copper  gilt, 
were  cast  by  order  of  Richard  in  his  lifetime.  In 
regard  to  the  manner  in  which  the  ill-fated  king 
was  murdered,  much  difference  has  existed  among 
our  historians.  That  the  story  of  his  being  knocked 
on  the  head  in  Pomfret  Castle  by  Sir  Piers  Exton 
and  the  halberts  of  others  of  his  guards  is  without 
foundation,  there  is  every  reason  to  believe.  The 
fact,  indeed,  is  placed  beyond  a  doubt,  that  his 
body  was  publicly  exposed  at  the  time,  and  that 
no  mark  of  violence  was  perceptible  on  it ;  more- 


474  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

over,  in  recent  times,  when  the  tomb  of  Richard 
and  his  queen  was  opened,  neither  of  the  skulls 
presented  the  least  mark  of  fracture  or  any  other 
in  j  ury. 

Enclosed  in  a  chantry  of  the  most  beautiful 
Gothic  workmanship  is  the  tomb  of  Henry  the 
Fifth,  carrying  us  back  in  imagination  from  the 
frolic  scenes  in  East  cheap,  between  Prince  Hal, 
Falstaff,  and  Dame  Quickly,  to  the  glorious  tri- 
umph of  English  chivalry  on  the  field  of  Agincourt. 
The  helmet,  the  shield,  and  the  saddle,  said  to  have 
been  worn  by  Henry  in  that  famous  battle,  are  still 
exhibited  near  his  grave.  Alas,  for  the  mutilated 
and  disgraceful  state  of  this  and  of  every  other 
object  of  interest  in  Westminster  Abbey  !  Indeed, 
what  with  the  dirty  and  dilapidated  state  of  the 
monuments  and  architectural  decorations,  the  in- 
civility of  the  vergers,  the  exaction  of  the  paltry 
admission  fee,  the  manner  in  which  visitors  are 
hurried  in  droves  over  the  edifice,  and,  worse  than 
all,  the  indifference  to  everything  that  is  interest- 
ing in  history  and  beautiful  in  art,  displayed  by 
the  cold  Protestant  successors  of  the  enthusiastic 
abbots  and  monks  of  the  olden  time,  Westmin- 
ster Abbey  presents  a  scene  of  neglect,  desolation, 
and  decay,  for  which  it  would  be  impossible  to  find 
a  parallel  in  any  city  of  Europe.  Surely,  out  of 
the  vast  revenues  enjoyed  by  the  dean  and  chap- 
ter, they  might  spare  something  to  render  the 
noble  establishment,  by  which  they  are  supported, 


WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  475 

less  discreditable  to  them.  Our  ruling  powers, 
moreover,  have  recently  wasted  immense  sums  on 
the  theatrical  and  meretricious  adornments  of  a 
new  House  of  Lords.  Could  not  they  spare  an 
insignificant  sum  to  replace  the  stolen  head  of  the 
victor  of  Agincourt,  or  the  broken  fingers  of  Mary, 
Queen  of  Scots  ? 

Near  the  magnificent  tomb  of  Henry  the  Fifth 
lie  the  remains  of  his  beautiful  wife,  Catherine, 
daughter  of  Charles  the  Seventh  of  France,  and, 
lastly,  in  addition  to  the  other  royal  personages, 
whom  we  have  mentioned  as  having  been  interred 
in  the  Confessor's  chapel,  may  be  traced  the  tombs 
of  Margaret,  the  infant  daughter  of  Edward  the 
Fourth,  and  of  Elizabeth  Tudor,  second  daughter 
of  Henry  the  Seventh,  who  died  at  Eltham,  in  her 
fourth  year. 

We  must  not  forget  to  mention  that  in  Edward 
the  Confessor's  Chapel  is  preserved  the  ancient  and 
celebrated  coronation  chair,  which  was  brought 
from  Scotland  by  Edward  the  First  in  1297,  to- 
gether with  the  regalia  of  the  Scottish  monarchs. 
We  have  only  to  call  to  mind  that  in  this  chair 
have  sat  at  their  coronations  every  one  of  our 
sovereigns  from  the  time  of  Edward  the  First  to 
the  present  time,  and  what  a  host  of  associations 
the  reflection  conjures  up !  In  regard  to  the  re- 
markable stone  under  the  seat,  various  traditions 
were  formerly  current,  and,  among  others,  that  it 
was  Jacob's  pillow,  on  the  night  that  he  had  his 


476  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

memorable  dream.  Of  its  great  antiquity,  how- 
ever, there  can  be  no  doubt.  According  to  some 
authorities,  King  Fergus  was  crowned  on  it  three 
hundred  and  thirty  years  before  Christ,  but  we  are 
not  aware  that  there  is  any  certain  proof  of  its 
having  been  the  coronation  seat  of  the  Kings  of 
Scotland  before  the  reign  of  Kenneth  the  Second, 
who  placed  it  in  the  palace  of  Scoon  about  the  year 
840.  Fordun,  the  Scottish  chronicler,  informs  us 
that  the  following  lines,  in  Latin,  were  anciently 
engraved  on  the  stone  : 

"  Except  old  saws  do  fail, 

And  wizards'  wits  be  blind, 
The  Scots  in  place  must  reign, 
Where  they  this  stone  shall  find." 

From  the  chapel  of  the  Confessor  we  pass  into 
that  of  St.  Erasmus,  where,  among  other  monu- 
ments of  inferior  interest,  are  those  of  Hugh  and 
Mary  de  Bohun,  grandchildren  of  Edward  the 
First ;  of  Sir  Thomas  Vaughan,  treasurer  of  Ed- 
ward the  Fourth  ;  of  William  of  Colchester,  abbot 
of  Westminster,  in  1420  ;  and  of  Henry  Carey, 
Lord  Hunsdon,  first  cousin  and  lord  chamberlain 
to  Queen  Elizabeth.  Here  also  is  the  remarkable 
tomb  of  Thomas  Cecil,  Earl  of  Exeter.  On  the 
right  side  of  the  recumbent  figure  of  the  earl  lies 
the  effigy  of  his  first  wife,  Dorothy,  daughter  of 
John  Nevil,  Lord  Latimer,  leaving  the  other  side 
vacant  for  that  of  his  second  wife,  Frances,  daugh- 


WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  477 

ter  of  William  Brydges,  fourth  Lord  Chandos,  who 
survived  him.  The  countess,  however,  it  is  said, 
could  not  brook  the  indignity  of  being  placed  on 
the  left  side,  and  though  she  had  no  objection  to 
moulder  in  the  same  vault  with  her  predecessor, 
left  express  orders  in  her  will  that  her  effigy 
should  on  no  account  be  placed  on  the  tomb. 

The  next  of  these  interesting  chapels  to  which 
we  are  conducted  is  a  small  one,  known  as  Islip's 
Chapel,  founded  by  Abbot  Islip,  the  well-known 
favourite  of  Henry  the  Seventh,  whose  tomb  it 
contains.  Here,  too,  lie  the  remains  of  Arch- 
bishop Usher,  whose  name  is  so  intimately  asso- 
ciated with  the  misfortunes  of  Charles  the  First, 
but  of  whose  resting-place  we  believe  there  is  no 
memorial. 

Opposite  to  Islip's  Chapel  are  the  ancient  mon- 
uments of  Edmund  Crouchback,  Earl  of  Lancaster, 
son  of  Henry  the  Third ;  of  Aymer  de  Valence, 
second  and  last  Earl  of  Pembroke  of  his  family ; 
of  Aveline,  the  great  heiress  of  William  de  Forti- 
bus,  Earl  of  Albemarle,  and  wife  of  the  Earl  of 
Lancaster  whom  we  have  just  mentioned ;  and, 
opposite  to  the  latter,  that  of  a  hero  worthy  of 
the  days  of  chivalry,  the  gallant  and  lamented 
General  Wolfe.  Close  by  is  the  monument  of  the 
pious  and  amiable  Brian  Duppa,  Bishop  of  Win- 
chester, who  attended  his  unfortunate  master, 
Charles  the  First,  in  his  misfortunes,  and  who 
was  tutor  to  Charles  the  Second.  A  few  hours 


478  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

before  the  dissolution  of  the  venerable  prelate, 
the  "  merry  monarch  "  paid  him  a  visit  in  his  sick- 
chamber,  and,  kneeling  down  by  his  bedside, 
requested  his  blessing.  The  dying  prelate,  with 
one  hand  on  the  king's  head,  and  the  other  lifted 
to  heaven,  prayed  fervently  that  he  might  prosper 
and  be  happy. 

As  we  wander  through  the  rest  of  the  abbey, 
the  monuments  being  of  more  modern  date,  and 
the  inscriptions  consequently  more  conspicuous, 
we  find  but  little  necessity  for  a  guide,  and  are 
not  sorry  to  be  left  to  our  own  reflections.  Passing 
into  the  east  aisle  of  the  north  transept,  we  gaze 
for  a  moment  in  admiration  on  the  unique  and 
beautiful  monument  of  Sir  Francis  Vere,  who 
died  in  1608,  and  thence  pass  on  to  Roubiliac's 
painful  but  no  less  striking  one,  to  the  memory  of 
Mrs.  Nightingale.  Here  is  the  sumptuous  monu- 
ment of  William  Cavendish,  Duke  of  Newcastle, 
the  gallant  and  devoted  follower  of  Charles  the 
First,  and  of  his  learned  and  eccentric  duchess  ; 
and  here  also  is  the  scarcely  less  magnificent  tomb 
of  John  Holies,  Duke  of  Newcastle. 

In  the  north  aisle  are  the  monuments  of  no 
less  celebrated  men  than  Lord  Mansfield,  the 
great  Lord  Chatham,  Charles  James  Fox,  and 
George  Canning ;  of  Warren  Hastings,  and  John 
Kemble ;  of  Sir  Humphrey  Davy,  and  Thomas 
Telford,  the  celebrated  civil  engineer.  In  the 
centre  of  the  north  transept,  within  a  short  distance 


WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  479 

from  one  another,  lie  the  remains   of   Chatham, 
Castlereagh,  Wilberforce,  Grattan,  Pitt,  and  Fox. 

"  Drop  upon  Fox's  grave  the  tear, 
'Twill  trickle  to  his  rival's  bier ; 
O'er  Pitt's  the  mournful  requiem  sound, 
And  Fox's  shall  the  notes  rebound." 

—  Marmion,  Intro,  to  Canto  /. 

In  the  north  aisle  of  the  choir,  leading  from 
the  north  transept  into  the  nave,  may  be  traced 
the  monuments  of  the  well-known  composer  and 
musician,  William  Croft ;  of  Dr.  Charles  Burney, 
himself  a  composer  and  the  author  of  the  "  History 
of  Music ; "  and  lastly,  of  the  celebrated  Henry 
Purcell.  How  different  from  the  inflated  inscrip- 
tion on  the  tomb  of  Doctor  Burney,  written  by  his 
daughter,  Madame  D'Arblay,  is  the  brief  and 
beautiful  epitaph  on  Purcell,  said  to  have  been 
written  by  Dryden !  "  Here  lies  Henry  Purcell, 
Esq.,  who  left  this  life,  and  is  gone  to  that  blessed 
place  where  only  his  harmony  can  be  exceeded." 
It  was  probably  from  this  epitaph  that  Doctor 
Johnson  borrowed  the  idea  of  the  exquisite  con- 
cluding couplet  of  his  lines  to  the  memory  of  the 
Welch  musician,  Claude  Phillips  : 

"  Sleep  undisturbed  within  this  peaceful  shrine, 
Till  angels  wake  thee  with  a  note  like  thine." 

Passing  into  the  nave,  and  keeping  along  the 
north  aisle,  the  eye  is  attracted  by  Rysbrack's 
large  monument  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton.  From 


480  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

thence  we  pass  on  to  that  of  William  Wilberforce, 
and  of  his  contemporary,  Spencer  Perceval,  who 
was  shot  by  Bellingham  in  the  lobby  of  the  House 
of  Commons.  At  the  west  end  of  the  nave,  the 
most  conspicuous  monument,  perhaps,  of  any  in 
the  abbey,  is  that  of  William  Pitt,  over  the  great 
entrance,  and  near  it  are  the  more  humble  ones 
of  Sir  Godfrey  Kneller,  Zachary  Macaulay,  and 
George  Tierney. 

As  we  wander  along  the  south  end  of  the  nave, 
on  our  return  to  Poets'  Corner,  many  monuments 
of  celebrated  persons  attract  our  attention.  Nearly 
in  the  corner  is  that  of  James  Craggs  the  younger, 
who  succeeded  Addison  as  secretary  of  state. 
On  it  are  engraved  Pope's  well-known  lines  to  the 
memory  of  his  friend  : 

"  Statesman,  yet  friend  to  truth  ;  of  soul  sincere, 
In  action  faithful,  and  in  honour  dear : 
Who  broke  no  promise,  served  no  private  end, 
Who  gained  no  title,  and  who  lost  no  friend ; 
Ennobled  by  himself,  —  by  all  approved, 
Praised,  wept,  and  honoured  by  the  muse  he  loved." 

It  was  Peter  Leneve,  the  herald,  who,  in  allusion 
to  the  lowness  of  Craggs's  origin  and  the  circum- 
stance of  his  dying  before  his  father,  suggested 
that  his  epitaph  should  have  been,  "  Here  lies  the 
last,  who  died  before  the  first  of  his  family."  Near 
the  tomb  of  Craggs  lie  the  remains  of  the  cele- 
brated Atterbury,  Bishop  of  Rochester,  once  dean 


WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  481 

of  the  abbey,  and  of  the  charming  actress,  Mrs. 
Oldfield,  but  there  is  no  memorial  to  either. 

Close  to  the  monument  of  Craggs  is  that  of 
the  wittiest  of  dramatic  writers,  William  Congreve, 
whose  body,  however,  lies  in  Henry  the  Seventh's 
Chapel.  The  pall-bearers  at  his  funeral  were  the 
Duke  of  Bridgewater,  the  Earl  of  Godolphin,  Lord 
Cobham,  Lord  Wilmington,  the  Hon.  George 
Berkeley,  and  General  Churchill,  and  the  monu- 
ment to  his  memory  was  erected  at  the  expense  of 
the  beautiful  Henrietta,  Duchess  of  Marlbo rough, 
as  "a  mark  how  dearly  she  remembers  the  happi- 
ness she  enjoyed  in  the  sincere  friendship  of  so 
worthy  and  honest  a  man."  "When  the  younger 
duchess,"  says  Walpole,  "exposed  herself  by 
placing  a  monument  and  silly  epitaph  of  her  own 
composition  and  bad  spelling  to  Congreve,  in 
Westminster  Abbey,  her  mother,  quoting  the 
words,  said,  '  I  know  not  what  pleasure  she  might 
have  in  his  company,  but  I  am  sure  it  was  no 
honour.' ' 

From  the  monument  of  Congreve  we  pass  on 
to  those  of  the  celebrated  physician  and  philos- 
opher, Dr.  John  Friend ;  of  the  poet,  Thomas 
Spratt,  Bishop  of  Rochester,  the  companion  of 
the  social  hours  of  Charles  the  Second  and  of 
George  Villiers,  Duke  of  Buckingham ;  of  the 
well-known  Field-Marshal  Wade ;  of  Sidney,  Earl 
Godolphin,  the  celebrated  first  minister  of  Queen 
Anne ;  and  of  Sir  John  Chardin,  the  traveller. 


482  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

From  the  monument  of  the  gallant  and  ill-fated 
Major  Andre  we  turn  to  that  of  Thomas  Thynne, 
the  wealthy  Issachar  of  Dryden's  immortal  poem, 
who  was  assassinated  by  Count  Coningsmark,  in 
Pall  Mall.  Lastly,  just  before  we  again  enter 
Poets'  Corner,  we  trace  the  monuments  of  the  un- 
fortunate Admiral  Sir  Cloudesley  Shovel,  who  was 
shipwrecked  and  drowned  on  the  rocks  of  Scilly ; 
of  Pasquale  de  Paoli,  the  brave  and  accomplished 
asserter  of  the  liberties  of  Corsica ;  of  the  non- 
conformist divine,  Isaac  Watts,  the  author  of  the 
well-known  "  Hymns  ;  "  of  Doctor  Bell,  the  founder 
of  the  Madras  system  of  education ;  and,  in  strik- 
ing contrast  to  the  staring  and  tasteless  monu- 
ments of  modern  times,  the  tomb,  of  marble  and 
alabaster  gilt,  of  William  Thynne,  the  gallant 
soldier  in  the  reign  of  Henry  the  Eighth. 

Passing  under  a  gloomy  arch  of  admirable  work- 
manship, we  suddenly  find  ourselves  in  a  blaze 
of  light  and  beauty,  gazing  in  admiration  at  that 
most  exquisite  creation  of  human  genius,  Henry 
the  Seventh's  Chapel.  How  sublime  is  the  effect, 
how  beautiful  the  scene !  On  each  side  hang  the 
banners  of  the  Knights  of  the  Bath,  and  above  us 
is  the  vaulted  and  fretted  roof,  so  marvellous  in 
its  construction,  "  suspended  aloft  as  by  magic, 
and  achieved  with  the  wonderful  minuteness  and 
airy  security  of  a  cobweb." 

And  how  many  celebrated  persons,  conspicuous 
for  their  greatness,  their  genius,  or  their  misfor- 


WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  483 

tunes,  rest  beneath  our  feet.  In  front  of  us,  the 
work  of  Torregiano,  is  the  magnificent  chantry, 
or  tomb,  of  the  founder,  Henry  the  Seventh,  and 
of  his  consort,  Elizabeth,  daughter  of  Edward  the 
Fourth.  At  the  head  of  the  tomb  sleeps  the 
young  King  Edward  the  Sixth  ;  and  close  by  is 
Westmacott's  chaste  and  beautiful  monument  of 
Anthony  Philip,  Duke  of  Montpensier,  brother 
of  the  present  King  of  France. 

Not  the  least  interesting  tomb  in  this  part  of 
the  chapel  is  that  which  contains  the  murdered 
remains  of  the  celebrated  favourite,  George  Vil- 
liers,  Duke  of  Buckingham ;  in  the  same  vault 
lie  his  two  sons,  George,  the  second  and  witty 
duke,  and  the  young,  the  gallant,  the  beautiful 
Lord  Francis  Villiers,  who,  being  overpowered 
with  numbers,  was  killed  in  a  skirmish  with  the 
forces  of  the  Commonwealth,  near  Kingston-on- 
Thames.  Here  is  the  monument  of  one  whose 
name  is  intimately  associated  with  the  literary 
history  of  the  last  century,  — John  Sheffield,  Duke 
of  Buckingham ;  and  under  the  east  window  is 
interred  the  well-known  favourite  of  William  the 
Third,  William  Bentinck,  Earl  of  Portland,  but 
without  any  memorial  of  his  resting-place.  Lastly, 
between  the  knight's  stalls,  in  the  centre  of  the 
nave,  lie  the  remains  of  George  the  Second  and 
his  consort,  Queen  Caroline ;  of  Frederick,  Prince 
of  Wales,  and  his  princess,  Augusta  of  Saxe- 
Gotha ;  of  William,  Duke  of  Cumberland,  the 


484  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

"  Butcher"    of   Culloden ;   and  of  many  other  of 
the  descendants  of  George  the  First. 

Passing  into  the  south  aisle  of  Henry  the 
Seventh's  Chapel,  among  the  most  interesting 
monuments  are  those  of  the  beautiful  Margaret, 
Countess  of  Lenox,  mother  of  Lord  Darnley,  the 
husband  of  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots ;  of  the  cele- 
brated George  Monk,  Duke  of  Albemarle,  and  his 
boisterous  duchess  ;  of  Catherine  Shorter,  the  wife 
of  Sir  Robert,  and  mother  of  Horace  Walpole ; 
and  that  most  exquisite  altar  tomb  —  the  work  of 
Torregiano  —  to  the  memory  of  Margaret,  Count- 
ess of  Richmond,  the  mother  of  Henry  the 
Seventh.  Lastly,  here  is  the  interesting  and 
magnificent  monument  of  the  unfortunate  Mary, 
Queen  of  Scots,  whose  remains  were  brought 
from  Peterborough  by  her  son,  James  the  First, 
to  rest  beneath  the  same  roof  as  those  of  her 
relentless  rival,  Queen  Elizabeth. 

"  Together  sleep  th'  oppressor  and  th'  oppressed." 

In  the  same  vault  with  the  beautiful  and  ill-fated 
queen  lie  the  bodies  of  the  interesting  and  per- 
secuted Lady  Arabella  Stuart ;  of  Anne  Hyde, 
Duchess  of  York ;  of  Queen  Mary,  the  consort 
of  William  the  Third ;  and  of  the  young  Marcel- 
lus  of  his  day,  Henry,  Duke  of  Gloucester,  the 
lamented  and  accomplished  son  of  Queen  Anne. 
At  the  end  of  this  aisle  is  another  royal  vault,  in 
which  are  deposited  the  remains  of  Charles  the 


WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  485 

Second,  Prince  Rupert,  William  the  Third,  and 
of  Queen  Anne  and  her  consort,  Prince  George 
of  Denmark. 

In  the  north  aisle,  the  most  conspicuous  monu- 
ment is  the  sumptuous  one  of  Queen  Elizabeth. 
Here  also  is  the  tomb  of  George  Saville,  Mar- 
quis of  Halifax,  the  well-known  statesmen ;  and 
of  Charles  Montague,  Earl  of  Halifax,  the  poet  : 
In  front  of  this  latter  monument  lie  the  remains 
of  Addison.  At  the  farther  end  is  another  royal 
vault  containing  the  bodies  of  King  James  the 
First,  of  his  consort,  Queen  Anne  of  Denmark, 
and  his  accomplished  son,  Prince  Henry ;  and 
above  it  are  two  quaint  monuments,  to  the  mem- 
ory of  their  infant  daughters,  Maria  and  Sophia. 
Close  by,  an  inscription  in  Latin  tells  us  that 
"  Here  lie  the  relics  of  Edward  the  Fifth,  King 
of  England,  and  Richard,  Duke  of  York,  who, 
being  confined  in  the  Tower,  and  there  stifled  with 
pillows,  were  privately  and  meanly  buried,  by 
order  of  their  perfidious  uncle,  Richard  the 
Usurper.  Their  bones,  long  inquired  after  and 
wished  for,  after  lying  190  years  in  the  stairs 
(those  lately  leading  to  the  chapel  of  the  White 
Tower),  were,  on  the  i7th  of  July,  1674,  by  un- 
doubted proofs,  discovered,  being  buried  deep  in 
that  place.  Charles  the  Second,  pitying  their 
unhappy  fate,  ordered  these  unfortunate  princes 
to  be  laid  among  the  relics  of  their  predecessors, 
in  the  year  1678,  and  the  thirtieth  of  his  reign." 


486  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

The  tomb  to  the  memory  of  the  murdered  princes 
has  naturally  been  regarded  by  thousands  with 
deep  interest.  Whether,  however,  the  bones 
which  it  contains  be  really  those  of  Edward  the 
Fifth  and  his  younger  brother,  we  fear  admits  of 
considerable  doubt. 

Before  quitting  Henry  the  Seventh's  Chapel,  we 
must  not  forget  to  mention  that  in  this  aisle, 
though  without  a  monument,  lies  the  body  of 
Edward  Hyde,  the  great  Earl  of  Clarendon. 
Here,  too,  lie  the  remains  of  William  Con- 
greve,  the  dramatic  poet,  and  —  probably  in  the 
same  vault  with  King  James  and  his  queen  — 
the  body  of  the  charming  and  interesting  Eliza- 
beth, Queen  of  Bohemia. 

For  a  short  time  the  bodies  of  Oliver  Crom- 
well, his  mother,  and  of  the  great  Admiral  Blake 
were  allowed  to  remain  in  peace  among  the  tombs 
of  the  Kings  of  England,  in  Henry  the  Seventh's 
Chapel,  where  they  had  been  severally  interred 
with  great  magnificence.  At  the  Restoration, 
however,  it  was  thought  a  degradation  that  their 
dust  should  mingle  with  that  of  royalty;  and, 
accordingly,  their  remains  were  disinterred,  those 
of  the  great  Protector  to  moulder  beneath  the 
gibbet,  and  those  of  his  mother  and  Blake  to 
be  flung  into  a  pit  in  the  adjoining  churchyard. 
Cromwell's  favourite  daughter,  the  interesting 
Mrs.  Claypole,  was  also  buried  in  Henry  the 
Seventh's  Chapel,  but  being  a  member  of  the 


WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  487 

Church  of  England,  and  a  devoted  royalist,  her 
body  was  allowed  to  remain  undisturbed  in  its 
resting-place,  where,  in  1725,  it  was  discovered 
by  some  workmen  who  were  employed  in  repair- 
ing the  foundations  of  the  edifice.  An  attempt 
was  made  to  purloin  the  silver  plate  attached 
to  it,  but  the  offenders  were  discovered,  and  the 
memorial  restored. 

Those  who  would  wish  to  witness,  perhaps,  the 
most  beautiful  and  impressive  scene  which  Lon- 
don can  afford,  should  wander  on  a  moonlight 
night  from  Dean's  Yard,  into  the  solitary  cloisters 
of  Westminster  Abbey.  The  sudden  transition 
from  the  noise  and  bustle  of  the  streets  to  the 
most  solemn  stillness ;  the  gloom  of  the  vaulted 
roof,  the  light  playing  on  the  beautiful  tracery 
of  the  arches,  the  mouldering  tombs  of  departed 
abbots  and  monks  which  lie  around  us ;  and, 
above  all,  the  glorious  abbey,  with  its  lofty 
towers  and  massive  buttresses  steeped  in,  and 
mellowed  by,  the  moonlight,  present  altogether 
a  scene  of  beauty  and  interest,  to  which  no 
language  could  do  justice. 

"  There  is  a  cloistered  and  half-ruined  aisle, 
Which  girts,  proud  Westminster,  thine  ancient  pile; 
Close  to  the  crowded  scenes  of  noise  and  strife, 
Yet  here  how  still  the  pulse  of  human  life  ! 
Save  when  it  tolls,  yon  iron  tongue  of  time, 
To  warn  the  living  with  its  solemn  chime. 
Here,  many  a  night,  in  happier  hours  than  this, 


488  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

When  life  was  new,  and  solitude  was  bliss, 

My  steps  have  turned  from  Folly's  senseless  bower, 

To  woo  the  beauty  of  the  moonlight  hour ; 

And  now,  when  years  have  brought  a  gloomier  lot, 

I  tread  once  more  the  venerated  spot : 

No  more  its  rich  monastic  courts  display 

The  holy  pageantry,  the  long  array ; 

The  hooded  tenants  of  the  convent  cell 

No  more  are  summoned  by  the  vesper-bell ; 

Yet  still  how  calm  and  beautiful !  on  high 

Hang  the  far  lights  that  gem  the  azure  sky ; 

And  through  the  open  arches  I  behold 

That  pile  o'er  which  a  thousand  years  have  rolled ; 

Calm  on  its  lofty  towers  the  moonlight  falls, 

Gilding  its  pinnacles  and  buttressed  walls ; 

Above  me  frowns  the  cloister's  vaulted  gloom, 

Beneath  me  rest  the  slumberers  of  the  tomb; 

Some,  o'er  whose  dust  affection's  tears  still  flow, 

And  some  who  died  a  thousand  years  ago ; 

Learning's  pale  sons,  and  Pleasure's  laughing  crew, 

Warriors  whose  fame  through  frightened  regions  flew; 

Who  waved  in  Paynim  lands  their  battle-blade, 

And  spurned  the  Crescent  in  the  red  Crusade ; 

Beauty  whose  smile  a  pleading  lover  blest, 

Maids  of  the  melting  eye,  and  snowy  breast ; 

Churchmen,  who  hurled,  unawed  by  earthly  things, 

Their  dread  anathemas  on  trembling  kings ; 

Saw  the  mailed  warrior  humbled  at  their  feet, 

And  cited  monarchs  to  their  judgment  seat. 

What  are  they  now,  those  meteors  of  their  day, 

The  brave,  the  fair,  the  haughty,  what  are  they? 

Whose  is  this  broken  slab,  this  crumbling  byst? 

They  mark  no  more  the  undistinguished  dust : 

Look  down,  ye  restless  worshippers  of  fame, 

And  read  the  empty  nothing  of  a  name  !  "   — /.  H.  J. 


WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  489 

In  the  cloisters  of  Westminster  Abbey  may  be 
traced  the  ancient  monuments  of  Abbot  Vitales, 
who  died  in  1082  ;  of  Gervase  de  Blois,  natural 
son  of  King  Stephen,  who  died  in  1106;  of  the 
Abbot  Chrispinus,  who  died  in  1114;  and  of 
another  abbot,  Laurentius,  who  died  in  1 1 76. 
Here  also  lie  buried  the  great  actors,  Betterton 
and  Barry  ;  Aphra  Behn,  celebrated  for  her  gal- 
lantries and  dramatic  writings ;  the  beautiful 
Mrs.  Gibber,  of  whom  Garrick  said,  when  he 
heard  of  her  death,  "Then  tragedy  has  expired 
with  her ; "  two  other  celebrated  actresses,  Mrs. 
Bracegirdle  and  Mrs.  Yates,  and  the  inimitable 
actor  and  mimic,  Samuel  Foote. 

Besides  the  persons  we  have  mentioned,  here 
lie  the  remains  of  Lawes,  the  companion  of  Mil- 
ton, and  the  composer  of  the  music  of  "  Comus  ;  " 
of  Dr.  William  King,  Archbishop  of  Dublin,  the 
friend  and  correspondent  of  Swift ;  of  Vertue,  the 
engraver ;  and  of  Sir  John  Hawkins,  the  friend  of 
Doctor  Johnson,  and  the  author  of  the  "  History  of 
Music."  Here  it  was  that  the  murdered  remains 
of  Sir  Edmondbury  Godfrey,  followed  by  seventy- 
two  clergymen  and  a  procession  consisting  of  a 
thousand  persons  of  distinction,  were  lowered  into 
the  grave ;  and  lastly,  in  the  cloisters  of  West- 
minster Abbey  lived  Dr.  Henry  Killegrew,  the 
author  of  the  "  Conspiracy,"  and  the  companion 
of  Charles  the  Second,  in  his  social  hours.  At 
the  house  of  her  father,  in  these  cloisters,  died 


490  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

the  young,  the  celebrated,   the  interesting  Anne 
Killegrew,  of  whom  Dry  den  says  : 

"  Her  wit  was  more  than  man,  her  innocence  a  child." 

We  must  not  forget  to  mention  a  remarkable 
scene  which  took  place  on  a  stormy  night,  in  the 
reign  of  Charles  the  First,  in  the  dark  cloisters 
of  Westminster  Abbey,  and  of  which  the  princi- 
pal actor  in  it,  William  Lilly,  the  famous  astrol- 
oger, has  given  us  an  account  in  his  "  Life  of 
Himself."  One  David  Ramsay,  the  king's  clock- 
maker,  it  appears,  had  taken  it  into  his  head  that 
a  vast  treasure  was  concealed  beneath  the  pave- 
ment of  the  cloisters.  Accordingly,  he  applied 
in  the  first  instance  to  Doctor  Williams,  Bishop 
of  Lincoln,  then  dean  of  the  abbey,  who  readily 
gave  his  permission  to  a  search  being  made,  on 
condition  that  the  dean  and  chapter  should  re- 
ceive a  certain  share  of  any  gold  that  might  be 
discovered.  Ramsay  subsequently  disclosed  his 
secret  to  the  astrologer  Lilly,  and,  accompanied 
by  about  thirty  other  persons,  having  selected 
a  winter's  night,  they  were  admitted  into  the 
cloisters.  One  John  Scott,  celebrated  for  his 
knowledge  of  "  the  use  of  the  Mosaical  or  Miner's 
rod,  then  began  to  apply  the  hazel  rods,  and  these 
beginning  to  tumble  over  one  another  on  the  west 
side  of  the  cloisters,"  the  searchers  were  persuaded 
that  the  treasure  lay  beneath  that  particular  spot. 
On  this  "they  fell  to  digging,"  and,  after  consider- 


WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  491 

able  labour,  about  six  feet  deep  from  the  surface, 
came  to  a  coffin.  Having  lifted  it,  and  poised  it, 
they  found  it  so  light  that  they  thought  it  scarcely 
worth  while  to  open  it,  which,  says  Lilly,  "  we 
afterward  much  repented."  The  divining  rods 
proving  of  no  further  assistance  in  the  cloisters, 
the  searchers  proceeded  to  the  abbey,  when,  we 
are  told,  a  storm  so  sudden  and  violent  arose,  that 
they  were  afraid  the  western  entrance  of  the 
cathedral  would  have  blown  down  upon  them. 
It  was  then  that  the  astrologer,  in  the  midst  of 
the  fury  of  the  elements  and  under  the  vaulted 
and  dimly  lighted  roof  of  the  old  abbey,  proceeded 
to  give  his  frightened  companions  a  proof  of  his 
supernatural  powers.  To  use  Lilly's  own  words, 
"  Our  rods  would  not  move  at  all ;  the  candles 
and  torches,  all  but  one,  were  extinguished,  or 
burned  very  dimly ;  John  Scott,  my  partner,  was 
amazed,  looked  pale,  and  knew  not  what  to  think 
or  do  until  I  gave  directions  and  command  to 
dismiss  the  demons,  which,  when  done,  all  was 
quiet  again."  Terrified  by  the  raging  of  the 
storm,  the  gloom  of  the  abbey,  and  by  the 
magical  communion  which  apparently  existed 
between  the  astrologer  and  the  agents  of  the 
dark  fiend,  the  whole  party,  it  seems,  uncer- 
emoniously fled  to  their  respective  homes,  nor 
does  it  appear  that  they  ever  again  ventured 
to  disturb  the  resting-places  of  the  dead. 

Close  to  the  cloisters,  at  the  southwest  end  of 


492  MEMORIALS  OF  LONDON. 

the  abbey,  is  the  celebrated  Jerusalem  Chamber, 
built  by  Abbot  Littlington,  and  anciently  forming 
part  of  the  abbot's  lodgings.  It  was  in  this  inter- 
esting apartment  that  Henry  the  Fourth  breathed 
his  last.  We  have  already  mentioned  that  the 
king  was  paying  his  devotions  at  the  shrine  of 
Edward  the  Confessor,  when  he  was  seized  with 
one  of  those  fits  to  which  he  had  for  some  time 
been  subject.  His  attendants  feared,  says  Fabian, 
that  he  would  "have  died  right  there;"  but  hav- 
ing succeeded  in  removing  him  to  the  abbot's 
apartments,  the  king  recovered  his  senses,  and 
inquired  where  he  was.  Being  informed  that  it 
was  called  the  Jerusalem  Chamber,  he  exclaimed, 
to  use  the  words  of  Shakespeare  : 

"  Laud  be  to  God  !  —  even  there  my  life  must  end, 
It  hath  been  prophesied  to  me  many  years, 
I  should  not  die  but  in  Jerusalem  ; 
Which  vainly  I  supposed  the  Holy  Land,"  etc. 

—  Second  Part  of  Henry  IV.,  Act  4,  Sc.  4. 

An  additional  interest  is  conferred  on  the  Jeru- 
salem Chamber,  in  consequence  of  its  having  been 
the  spot  where  the  remains  of  several  celebrated 
men  have  lain  in  state,  previous  to  their  interment 
in  Westminster  Abbey.  Among  these  may  be 
mentioned,  Dr.  Robert  South,  the  eminent  divine ; 
the  Earl  of  Halifax,  the  poet ;  Sir  Isaac  Newton ; 
Congreve,  the  great  dramatic  writer ;  Mrs.  Old- 
field,  the  actress,  and,  lastly,  Thomas  Campbell, 
the  author  of  the  "  Pleasures  of  Hope." 


WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  493 

Before  concluding  our  notices  of  Westminster 
Abbey  and  its  precincts,  we  must  not  omit  to 
mention  the  interesting  and  once  beautiful  Chap- 
ter House,  where  the  Commons  of  England  first 
sat  apart  from  the  Lords,  as  a  distinct  body,  and 
where  they  continued  to  hold  their  Parliaments 
till  1547,  when  the  chapel  of  St.  Stephen's  was 
granted  them  by  Edward  the  Sixth.  The  build- 
ing itself  has  been  allowed  to  fall  into  a  lamentable 
state  of  neglect  and  decay ;  its  lofty  windows,  once 
resplendent  with  stained  glass,  have  been  nearly 
filled  up,  and  the  fine  roof  has  been  destroyed 
and  one  of  wood  substituted.  There  still,  how- 
ever, remains  the  beautiful  Gothic  portal  leading 
from  the  cloisters,  as  well  as  the  light  and  ele- 
gant central  column  which  helps  to  support  the 
roof ;  some  interesting  remains  of  the  ancient  tiled 
pavement  of  the  reigns  of  Edward  the  Confessor 
and  Henry  the  Third  ;  and  on  the  walls  have  been 
preserved  some  very  curious  paintings  of  the  latter 
reign,  one  of  which,  a  female  figure,  is  of  exquisite 
colours  and  execution.  Here,  too,  are  preserved 
the  famous  Doomsday  book,  and  other  ancient 
records.  Beneath  the  Chapter  House  is  the  crypt 
of  massive  and  very  singular  construction,  but 
which,  for  some  reason  which  the  author  has  been 
unable  to  discover,  has  been  entirely  closed  for 
nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century. 


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